


Before We All Burn

by smokeandjollyranchers



Category: Critical Role
Genre: Bren Never Broke, Double Agent AU, F/M, Mild torture, Widojest - Freeform, and for dick jokes, might get worse, rated for violence and possible sexy encounters, will probably get worse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17876912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandjollyranchers/pseuds/smokeandjollyranchers
Summary: Bren is a weapon of the Empire, a mage in a class all his own, and the pride of his teacher. He's given his whole life to its service, questioning nothing. A slight mistakes leads him to discover exactly how much of what he's been told is a lie, and the rage in his chest is compressed to a spark, a mere flicker, giving him the time he needs to burn the Empire to the ground. He knows he can't do it alone, so he becomes Caleb, an unimpressive wanderer, taking his time finding weaknesses and holes in the Empire's foundation. These two worlds aren't easy to keep separate, and before long, he can feel pieces of himself bleeding through. He can't stop though, not until the Empire lays in ashes at his feet.





	1. Borderline

During the early morning hours, he’ll smell smoke.

This trick used to make him fly up from sleep, arms out like he might be able to douse phantom flames with his palms. If he can pull fire from nothing, he should be able to put it out the same way. But, like it always does, the smoke fades from his nose, and Bren starts another day. He lays on his bed, half open eyes staring at the stark white ceiling. He needs to get moving, or he’ll be late, and being late simply isn’t tolerated at this point. Bren needs to get up. 

He still doesn’t move.

It’s the only rebellion he’s been comfortable with, the extra ten minutes to lay in his bed and not care that the world is waiting on him. It’s not the world he’ll anger if he’s late, it’s only Master Ikithon. But he’s not expected until 8, and it’s ten to seven right now. His ten minutes of silence, his one solace before he starts a day of dubious activity, and he hears it being interrupted outside of his door.

It’s quiet, but he hears shuffling feet, stumbling, like they’re trying to stay upright. There’s a pause every couple steps, like they’re trying to catch their breath. They’re in pain, whoever they are, and trying to hide it. They hide it well, groans hissed in time with footfalls, and it isn’t too long before they’re passed his door and on their way. Bren rolls into his side, facing the grey wall of his quarters. He wonders if it’s Astrid or Eodwulf that angered Ikithon already today.

Five more minutes.

It doesn’t feel like rest anymore, now it feels like cowardice. So Bren pulls himself up, hand through his wild hair, and puts his feet on the cold floor beneath him. He has no desire to get up, and stand at attention and receive another extermination order, but what choice does he have? Two more days until his next lean. There’s that itch in the back of his skull again, the  _ rage _ , the hatred that burns cold in the heat of him.

Someday, he’s going to set this entire Empire on fire. That’s enough to keep him going.

* * *

An hour later, at the stroke of eight, Bren stands at attention.

Astrid is on his left, her normal airy smile on her face. She looks immaculate, not a hair out of place and not a shade of pain in her eyes. Her white blonde hair catches the light, as though she glows around them. She’s standing completely straight, waiting, disarming, a snake in the grasses of the Empire. It’s been a long time since she was that gangly girl he grew up with, but he can’t help but notice her ears are  _ still _ just a little too big. She catches his eyes for just a moment, and she sends him a wink. He doesn’t know if she was the one hurt or not.

There’s no point trying to read Eodwulf. He towers above Bren, casting a shadow over Astrid’s light. He looks more fighter than he does mage, wide shoulders, big hands. It’s not an act, Bren has seen Wulf crush a skull or two in his hands, but magic is truly his friend’s first love. If he is in pain, he betrays none of it on his face, he simply waits, for orders, for their day to start, for him to be granted a purpose until the next mission.

As it always does, Trent Ikithon’s door opens precisely one minute past eight, and he barely glances at his favored pupils. He sits at his desk, moving as he pleases. He looks sickly, but he has for the last few years. Bren waits patiently for him to sit, to open a few files on his desk. “Well?” He asks, never looking up from his papers. “What do you have for me?”

“Astrid.” Bren speaks, and she takes a step forward.

“The investigation of the coast came back with nothing out of the ordinary, life exists as it always has outside of the Empire, ships come in, ships go out, nothing is discussed, no sign  _ anywhere _ of the thief.  _ His _ tower stands as it always does, shifting and shimmering and making him feel  _ oh _ , so important. As it stands, the coast is unchanged.”

“I see.” Ikithon still stares at the papers in front of him, not bothering to give them eye contact. “And?”

“Eodwulf.”

Wulf takes a step forward, eyes on the ground. “There’s mostly silence to the North, no one who sees anything feels the need to remember it, loyalty past the gates lasts only as long as coin stays, but no one has seen the defector, and I believed their testimony.” His fingers twitch, and Bren and Astrid both hold their breath. “The thief  is not in the North, and the North holds nothing of interest.”

“Disappointing.” Ikithon sighs, finally looking up at them, at  _ him _ . “And you, Bren? What did you find for me?”

“There’s nothing  _ but _ whispers and secrets in the East. The Krynn are edging closer and closer to the borders of the Empire. Unrest, confusion, there’s many different emotions. I wasn’t able to confirm or disprove the defector was there, but it seems the most likely path they would take. There’s tension about to spill over, up there. In any chaos, they could’ve slipped past the border and into the wastes. With Astrid and Eodwulf’s finding, I have to assume the thief has left the Empire.”

Ikithon is  _ annoyed _ , very much so, but he wears it in the single grey eyebrow that he lifts. “So, the most dangerous threat to the Empire, a  _ dirty traitor _ , manages to sneak past my best soldiers, and escape,  _ right into  _ enemy territory. I can’t say I’m particularly  _ pleased _ with this information.”

Next to him, Astrid stands up straighter, never losing her airy smile. Wulf swallows, but doesn’t lift his eyes from the floor. Bren feels the chill down his spine, but he swallows any visible reaction, simply meets Master Ikithon’s unimpressed gaze. Eventually their master waves his hand, dismissing them. “Go, go find me something  _ useful. _ Astrid, I want you up East, and Eodwulf, I’ll have you accompany. I want  _ answers _ , this time. And you, Bren, I need you to complete a little  _ favor _ for me.”

That’s never good, but they all nod at their new assignments, and head for the door. Once they’re a good fifteen feet away, Wulf’s shoulders drop, and he hisses out in pain. Immediately, Astrid and Bren are on either side, helping support him. “ _ Fuck _ , I didn’t think it would end.”

“What happened?!” Astrid whispers furiously, eyes on their door, she keeps her goal in her eyesight, never taking them off. Bren tries to hold on to Wulf, leading them forward.

“I heard you this morning, what did he find?”

They’re at the door now, and they maneuver him in, sitting him down on the couch. Wulf groans, shrugging off his cloak. One of his arms is leaking blood through the bandages, and Bren sucks in a breath. “Did he add one?”

“He changed it out for a different one, it’s not...reacting well. I feel violently ill.”

Astrid grabs his arm, undoing the bandage. As she does, revealing more of Wulf’s arm, Bren sees the shallow colors under scars, reds, blues, greens. Some lie flat, others bulge slightly under the skin. Astrid’s arms look the same,  _ his _ arms look the same.  “Fuck, emeralds really do not react well with you. What did you do to piss him off, Wulf?”

“I...I summoned a familiar. He was less than impressed.”

Astrid and Bren share a look. She sighs, pulling out some new bandages and rewrapping his arm. Bren sits down next to him, deep scowl on his face. “You know he  _ hates  _ them, why would you do that?”

“I can’t be in a thousand places at once, sometimes the extra set of eyes is nice.” Wulf shrugs, looking over at him. “Sometimes, it’s nice to have a conversation.”

Bren understands,  _ painfully _ so. But that’s what Wulf is hoping for, that Bren might admit this is fine, because Wulf remembers him before he was like this, remembers his house, his cat-

He smells smoke again.

“ _ Don’t do it again.” _ Bren warns him, a chill behind his words. “It will be much worse if you do it again.”

“I know.” Wulf sighs, looking back at the ground. “I know. I forget myself sometimes.”

“You won’t find yourself in the past, or in your head.” Astrid chastises him, tightening the bandages as she finished tying it. “You can only find yourself in the mirror. That’s all you are. That’s all  _ we _ are. If you forget, ask us. We know who you are.”

Even as she says it, Bren knows it’s a lie. They might have, once. Young, idealistic, power  _ starved _ . They used to be  _ very _ different people. None of them are like that anymore, they’re so far gone from who they once were. When Bren looks in the mirror, he recognizes himself less and less. Wulf knows she’s lying too, but he still reaches for her, hand resting on her shoulder.

“I’m grateful for you both, and your wisdom. Come then, let’s pack, and get on the road.”

“The East sounds terrible!” Astrid says brightly, getting to her feet. “I can’t wait to go.”

Wulf stands as well, looking back at Bren. “I hope his favor is short lived.”

“Thank you,” Bren whispers, scratching at his arm absentmindedly. “I hope so as well.”

Within the hour, Bren stands in front of the window, watching Astrid and Eodwulf leaving, heading towards the East, to find the thief that Bren couldn’t. He almost feels bad they’re being sent on this pointless assignment, they won’t find the thief in the East. But, at least they won’t be here to realize that.

* * *

Trent summons him a little after two in the afternoon.

Bren walks past his office, the door closed. Trent isn’t in there, which means he’s needed in the Cellar. The Cellar might’ve actually held wine once, but now it’s simply where the Academy...works...on their harder cases. Bren makes the descent into the damp halls, blood and mildew assault his senses, even still, after so many years.

The third door on the left is open slightly, and Bren’s arms suddenly  _ ache _ . He sucks in a breath, holding it as he passes, peeking inside. There’s a student in there, scrubbing blood off the table, looking very annoyed about it. Shakily exhaling, Bren passes by, his head down.  _ So, it’s not him then. _

The fifth door on the right is wide open, and Bren walks in quietly. Master Ikithon is waiting for him, leaning against the wall. There’s a wooden table in the center of the room, and chained to it is one of the servant girls who works for the Academy. He recognizes her, Dalia, she’s nice enough, works quickly, and she works in the office of Lady Vess DeRogna.  _ Shit _ .

“Thank you, Bren, for joining me.”

“It’s, of course, my pleasure.” He answers, trying not to look at Dalia’s pale face, terror in her eyes. “How can I help?”

“We’re still trying to figure out how such a  _ mistake _ can be made.” Trent explains, eyes boring into his. “It’s so unlikely, wouldn’t you say? To have be robbed as we have been. Embarrassing, really. So, we’re going to see what the maid saw, she doesn’t seem to remember.”

Dalia whimpers, her eyes filling with tears. “I ain’t seen anything! There was nothing out of the ordinary that day! It was like it always was.”

“Except it couldn’t have been, dear, since we were robbed. You see Bren, she’s simply confused. I need you to help her collect her thoughts.”

“Of course.” Bren answers, crossing the room to the cupboards. He searches quickly, Ikithon doesn’t like wasting time. Tools begin piling on a tray in front of him. Pliers, thin knives, screws. The tools of the trade they forget to mention to young wizards. Dalia is crying now, against her better judgement.

There’s a fluttering of sorrow in his chest, just for a moment, before he shoves it down inside of himself. Regret isn’t going to make this any less horrible for Dalia. Besides, why would he care of some maid was punished for not doing her job correctly. Bren walks beside the wooden table, setting the tray down next to her. “Dalia, are you sure you can’t remember anything amiss?”

“I  _ swear _ , sir, I didn’t see anything or anyone strange. I didn’t see anybody! Only the Lady, sir.”

Bren sighs, picking up one of the thin knives. “I wish you had something better to tell me.”

* * *

“I’m disappointed, Bren. Usually, you’re much better at yielding results. This is twice now, you’ve brought me nothing.”

Bren stands outside the room, heat from Dalia’s blood fading from his hands as they stand there. Ikithon shakes his head, and Bren clenches bloody fists. “Perhaps, if you would  _ tell me _ what was stolen, I could help you better.”

“It’s Assembly matters, it’s not for you to  _ ask _ , you should simply do.”

“Of course.” Bren mutters, eyes on the ground in front of him. Ikithon begins strolling away, hands clasped behind his back.

“Clean up your mess, my boy. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

* * *

That girl’s blood is under his fingernails.

Bren scrubs and scrubs, but her blood stays firmly stained under his nails. Usually, Astrid helps him clean the blood out from under his nails, she's good at fixing things up. They usually call her in for clean up, she’s very good at making things look  _ clean _ , like she hadn’t just eviscerated a traitor lord and his family in their living room. He remembers the way she fell into his chest when they waltzed, the way she smiled at him, her hair done up like a princess. Bren rememberers the way Astrid smiled at him over the table, her parents dead in their meal-

He groans, clenching his hands into fists. Trent did this on purpose. He’s upset that Bren’s trip up East yielded nothing, and he took Astrid and Wulf away. Master Ikithon is cruel, he raised the three of them to depend on each other. They’ve lived together for  _ years _ now. After graduation, the only people Bren interacted with were those two. After cultivating their relationship, giving them  _ one  _ solid coping mechanism, as punishment, Trent will separate them. Bren is  _ sick of it _ .

He knows his mission was a terrible failure, of course but was. The thief hadn’t gone East. Firstly,  _ what kind of idiot _ would head straight for the bubbling tension outside the Empire? If the thief had managed to infiltrate the Academy, and steal something so well guarded, why would they run immediately for Xhorhas? The Coast did make the most sense, Trent had the right idea there, but why run anywhere they would be sure to catch you? With  _ all _ of the Empire at your back? You can’t run, not yet.

Bren sighs, opening the door to Wulf’s room, taking his pillow. He makes a stop by Astrid’s room as well, stealing the blanket off her bed. He returns to his room, tossing the stolen bedding onto his bed. Ikithon’s punishment is only a minor annoyance at this point, he’ll survive it. After all, he has some time off in the next day or so, and it’s  _ much _ needed after these last couple weeks. He pulls Astrid’s blanket around himself, closing his eyes.

The last thing he sees is the gentle light of a campfire, burning to cinders in front of him, and the nervous voice of his faraway companion, explaining her day to Bren’s familiar. His cat looks up at her, slowly blinking as Nott keeps talking. She’s a little drunk, he can tell by the way she’s speaking, but she seems okay. He’s glad, he worries about her when he’s gone, but she’s a capable little goblin, very well versed at taking care of herself. Nott scratches the cat’s ears, a small smile on her face. “I hope he’s back soon.”

Bren sighs, opening his eyes to the darkness if his room, satisfied smirk on his face. Well, she hasn’t eaten Frumpkin yet. Better than he expected honestly.  He thinks about Wulf’s bloody arms, having been caught with a familiar. That’s where his comrades suffered, they weren’t smart enough to lie when it matters. He exhales, letting the stress of the day out of his lungs, planning his trip in his head for the next few days.

He’ll meet with her in Trostenwald, and that’s a  _ bit _ of a trip. But that’s okay, he’s glad to take the break. Tomorrow, Trent will to stand over his shoulder while he tortures more staff, who will know nothing, until he feels like whatever humanity he must’ve seen in Bren’s eyes will be snuffed out, leaving an obedient weapon in his shoes.

Bren is getting harder to wield lately, and Ikithon is watching him.

* * *

He appears in the trees, entire body lurching.

Once his feet touch the ground the magic dissipates, his bones feel like they’ve been crushed. The pressure in his head changes slightly, a small trickle of blood drips from his nose. Bren’s been working on teleportation lately, but he’s still not mastered it, judging by the way his teeth ache in his skull.

He throws the collar of his coat up, leather worn and familiar under his fingers. If he’s done this right, Nott shouldn’t be too far from here, and she’ll come to him once he gets close enough Frumpkin knows he’s here. Sure enough, he’s only got to walk about fifteen minutes before two pairs of eyes are peeking at him from the tree above. “Hello, again.”

“Caleb!” Nott’s eyes grin for her, mouth hidden by a porcelain mask. “You’re back! The cat was acting like a dick again.”

Frumpkin leaps from the tree branch to his shoulders, purring as he does so.  _ Well well,  _ Frumpkin’s voice echoes in his head, in his familiar’s honey sweet voice.  _ If it isn’t my favorite little liar _ .

Bren scratches under his chin, pointedly ignoring him. “Have you been alright?”

“Yeah, we got chased out of the last town…but I did manage to get a bit of coin before they did that.” Nott climbs down from the tree, landing on his shoulder. “I figured I would get to Trostenwald today, and since you’re back we can make a plan.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Nott presses one of her hands against his face, eyebrows furrowed. “How come you shaved?”

Bren rolls his eyes, rubbing his chin. “Accidentally burnt some of it, so I had to get rid of all of it.”

“You look a long younger without it.”

He also looks a lot more like  _ Bren _ than he does Caleb without it, but he wasn’t about to risk a punishment from Ikithon about looking  _ unwashed _ in front of the Assembly than to mourn a beard he’ll have back in three days. “I’ve heard that before. Anything interesting in Trostenwald?”

“Nothing I’ve picked up on.” Nott tells him, ears twitching as she listens to the woods around them. “Just the same old city nonsense, I’m excited to try some of their booze tho.” 

He chuckles to himself, weight lifting off his shoulders as he falls into this role, the shabby traveling wizard. He’s been with Nott as often as he could these last six months or so, whenever he can get away from the Empire. He’s been taking jobs, and his own time to travel around the Empire, gathering the information he can about what’s happening. He’d been alone for a long while, only meeting Nott after he’d been thrown into jail, being mistaken for a homeless thief. There’s something he likes about being Caleb, unassuming and unseen.

A few moments later, both Frumpkin and Nott look to their left, and suddenly the three of them are on their backs. Bren sees the cracklings of magic against his chest, where the spell hit. Two men appear from behind trees, dressed in dark colors, one with a blade at his side, and the other lowering his hand, his spell finished. Bren drags himself to his feet, teeth clenched.  _ Fucking fantastic _ .

To be attacked only a handful of minutes after his overshot teleportation spell? It’s like Ikithon set this up personally. Nott stands next to him, eyes darting along the trees. Bren snaps his finger, Frumpkin disappearing from his feet, only to reappear on the caster’s head. Frumpkin digs claws into the man’s face and he’s howling, trying to pull the cat off his head.

The man with the sword looks over for a second, but ultimately ignores his friend, lunging for Bren. He pushes his body to side step, but the blade still manages to push itself against his ribs. Bren groans, hand coming up to cover the wound. His blood is warm against his hand, and as he plans for his next move, an arrow embeds itself in his attacker’s throat.

He kicks the man away as he chokes on his own blood; eyes resting on the caster. The enemy’s face is bleeding now, blood falling into his eyes. He keeps trying to grab Frumpkin, swearing as he does so. Nott is already behind him, unseen as Bren snaps his fingers again. Frumpkin disappears, and the caster meets his eyes,  _ incredibly annoyed _ . He’ll wear that annoyed grimace for the Raven Queen, an arrow through his neck decides that.

Bren falls to the ground with their dead enemies, and Nott bounds over to him, worried look in her eyes. “Caleb are you okay?! What happened?! You’re usually…” she wants to say  _ better _ , but she stops herself. She isn’t wrong, he usually is. If he hadn’t  _ fried _ himself trying to get there, he would’ve fared a little better.

But he just puts a hand on her head, giving her a pained smile. “You can’t win them all, we should see what they have on them though.”

Nott frowns at him, he can tell by the way her eyes narrow, but she does go and search the bodies, the clinking of coins disappearing into her pockets as she does. “Shit...I was really hoping they would have some sort of healing potion on them.”

“I can sleep this off.” He assures her. He concentrates, a thin layer of blue flame across his palm. He takes a deep breath, one, two-

He presses the flame to the wound, heat searing the skin closed. Teeth clench hard enough to pop his jaw, but the bleeding stops. It’ll be good enough for tonight. Nott comes back to join him, helping him to his feet. Bren accepts her hand, coming to his feet again, and they make their way towards the town.

It isn’t long before they find a cozy tavern, The Nestled Nook, and they’ve gotten themselves a room. The barkeep, Yorda, gives them a strange glance, but hands the key over regardless. Once in their room, Bren falls into the bed, not bothering to get undressed. Nott crawls up on the bed too, using the back of his legs as a pillow. She pulls her mask off, yawning. Her crookedly sharp teeth glint in the candlelight, and she looks at him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I will be.” He promises, pulling a smile on his face. He brings Frumpkin back, his cat crawling into the crook of his neck.

_ Ah you got your ass kicked? My dear sweet liar, why is your luck so terrible? _

Bren doesn’t answer, pain ebbing as his consciousness slips. He can’t help but notice how even though his side is burnt, and all of his limbs hurt, falling asleep here, with the cat and the goblin is so much  _ easier  _ than it is in the Academy walls.


	2. Show Your Face, Finish What You've Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb wakes up achy, sore, and and dazed. He isn't ready for the loud colorful strangers who have suddenly walked into the tavern like the beginning of a bad joke.

_ Bren lifts his boot, connecting square in Astrid’s back, knocking her to the ground. She rolls on impact, getting on her knees again, facing their enemy. Before he can ask if she’s okay, he’s struck in his chest, vision going dark.  _

_ The cleric in front of them laughs maniacally, her spell hitting him dead on. He feels Astrid move in front of him, blocking their enemy from him. “ _ Are you alright _?” She whispers to him in Zemnian. _

_ “ _ I can’t see _.” He answers her, hand resting on her shoulder. He brings his other hand to his face, and he feels blood dripping from his eyes. He hears Astrid snarl, muttering under her breath. He doesn’t know for sure, but he can smell acid in the air, and he hears the enemy cleric choking. Astrid pulls him forward, so his chest is pressed against her back, and she aims his hand for him. _

_ “Light her up.” She whispers, in that reverently sweet voice of hers. Bren does as she tells him, tracing the glyph in the air. He can hear the fire as it catches, the clerics screams soon after. Once she’s sure their enemy is incapacitated, Astrid leads his arm down, so it’s resting over her chest. He can feel her smile, as the screaming stops and the woman burns. _

_ “Did we get her?” _

_ Astrid laughs at that, pulling away from him just long enough to put her hands on his face, examining him. “Hm, your eyes are still clear.  I’m sure I can undo this, I’m just gonna need a little time. I’m…” _

_ She’s drained, of course she is, Astrid found the woman first, only barely managing to communicate to him that she needed help. He hears the small tremor in her voice, like she’s afraid to admit this. He brings his own hand up to her face, he doesn’t need eyesight to know exactly where to put his thumb so he can rub it across her cheekbone. _

_ “It’s fine.” He assures her, smile on his face. “Just don’t leave me on the side of the road somewhere while I’m like this.” _

_ Astrid laughs again, lacing their fingers together and pulling him towards the heretic cleric’s body. “Oh Bren, don’t give me ideas, who knows what I’ll do with them?” _

* * *

Caleb jerks awake, startling Nott at his feet.

She blinks at him, a relieved look on her face. “You’ve been asleep for  _ hours _ , I kind of thought you died.”

“Oh, I’m not that lucky.” He sighs, pulling himself up. “Have you just been waiting here?”

“I went on a couple walkabouts.” She admits, restringing her mask. “But nobody saw me, I was careful. Or I tried to be.”

“Being careful and  _ trying _ to be careful are two very different things.”

She ignores him, tying her mask on her face. “Come on, we really should feed you, don’t you think?”

“ _ Ja _ , I could use some food.” What he could really use is a drink, but either way, it means getting out of bed. It’s easier to wake up here, even as battered and sore as he is. He runs a hand through his wild hair, and Nott waits for him as he stands up, groaning only a little. The wound on his side aches, but it’s manageable as he follows her down to the tavern.

It’s already bustling, and he sees Yorda being the counter, shouting off orders towards the waitress. Even with how busy they are, two ales are dropped off at their table. Caleb leans into his arms, resting on the table. Looking around, it seems like it always does here in Trostenwald. People around him discuss trade and weather, arguing about neighbors. Nothing interesting, yet.

He thinks that’s what makes the strangers who walk in stand out that much more.  _ A half orc, a human, and a tiefling walk into a bar _ , he thinks to himself, hiding his smile with a drink. The three take a seat at a nearby table, talking about nothing. Caleb can’t tell if the half orc is strapping or not, a little thinner than he should be, but a half orc nonetheless. He  _ knows _ the human is stronger than she has any right to be, her arms are bared, and saddled with muscle. That, paired with the bored look in her eyes tells him she hits first, and for fun. Everything about the tiefling is misleading. She grins without fear of people staring at her sharp teeth. The word unapologetic comes to his mind, and he stares for a moment, before drawing his eyes away. He’s not sure he’s ever seen a tiefling that shade of blue before.

He’s not sure he’s seen that shade of blue before.

Caleb continues his drink, keeping his ears open as he does. Nott is doing the same, a habit she picked up from him. When he had met her in that jail cell, she had asked him what they had got him on. He had told her he was collecting secrets, and had gotten too many good ones.  

While he’s gone now, Nott listens for him, so he doesn’t miss any. She told him she was a bit of a collector too, and she was happy to help him out. She’s given him a lot of nonsense he wishes he could forget, and a lot of whispers he never would’ve gotten without her. But now, as a man comes in and dumps a bunch of coin on the stranger’s table, he knows he’s lost her. Her needle thin pupils getting bigger as she looks at him.

“Don’t arouse suspicion.” She whispers, eyes moving back to the stranger’s table. “But did you hear all of that coin hit that table?”

_ Oh no _ . “ _ Ja _ , but it’s on the table though, so maybe that’s where it should stay.” They can’t steal from those three, the human alone would be enough to rip him in half.

Nott tries to push her luck, to convince him that maybe they could just slip it away from them once they leave. She isn’t even able to get through her plan before the tiefling sits herself down at their table, smiling at them. She’s got jewels on her horns and her fingers. Something about her sparkles as she moves. Caleb doesn’t think it’s the gems. He’s barely paying attention, as the tiefling teases his friend, until she’s looking at him, vibrant violet eyes on his. “Hey you should take a bath. They have showers here.”

“...What?”

“You bathe yourself in  _ wa _ ter.” She explains, slowly. Her words are dripping with a Nicodranas accent. So, she’s from the coast, visiting the Empire. Astrid just got back from the coast, he wonders if their stories would match. “I’m only telling you this because you smell kind of bad and it’s wafting over there. If  _ I  _ smelled that bad I would want someone to tell me.”

Caleb exhales, thinking of the magic, blood and sweat dried onto his skin. Fair point. “I have only just met you?”

“Hi,” She grins at him, holding out her hand. “I’m Jester.”

“I’m C-Caleb.” He answers, off guard. He almost forgot the fucking name he’d picked.  _ Gods _ , maybe he should’ve slept longer. He doesn’t offer his hand to the girl. She shakes the air anyways.

_ Jester _ , that can’t be her name, could it? Simple enough nickname, especially if she’s funny. Or if she  _ thinks _ she’s funny. It could go either way. She’s open, and jovial, and she drags her companions into the conversation. He’s got their names now. Beau, the beast of a human, and Fjord, the half orc. Fjord doesn’t seems to lean any way, but Beau wears the Empire on her like a shroud.

He listens to them talk, surprised, but pleasantly that they’re being kind to Nott. Jester attempts to teach her a card trick, and he watches  _ both  _ of them cheat, and he fights a smile. Jester does end up beating Nott, and her friends ply her to return the silver pieces. Caleb isn’t too worried about it, He listens to the other two talking about the giant snake they had fought the day before.  _ Strange _ , not truly unheard of.  

“Oh! Caleb knows magic!” Nott says, drawing him back into the conversation. Jester is looking at him, expectantly. He snaps his fingers, Frumpkin appearing by his feet. His cat stretches, looking up at him. _ Wow, there’s people here. What’s the occasion? _

_ Establishing a storyline.  _ Caleb answers him. Jester and Beau both start cooing, scratching his ears. Frumpkin lifts his chin to allow them to keep scratching, and Caleb sits back up, meeting Fjord’s gaze. The other man regards him, then Frumpkin. “Cute. I’m allergic to cats though.”

_ Immediately Untrustworthy _ . Frumpkin tells him, and Caleb has to agree. Jester looks up at him from where she’s been cooing at Frumpkin. “Caleb! Are you going to go to the Academy?!”

“No, that would be silly.” He tells her, fighting the urge to lift his collar up. Jester grins, like she’s looking for something.

“I can do magic too!” She tells him, hopping to her feet. She brings her hands up to her mouth, and whispers. When she lets her hands go, all of the windows in the tavern fly open with a crack. The entire bar jumps, turning to glare at her. Despite himself Caleb smiles.

Jester casts nearly silently, carefully,  _ invoking.  _ He’s pretty sure she’s a cleric. None of the approved Gods in the Empire works in whispers. Their Gods are well established, always busy, you have to speak to be heard. Caleb wonders what kind of God listens to whispers.

“Low profile, Jester.” Fjord whispers to her, and she winces, looking around. She whispers in her hands again; and the window slam closed, causing the bar to jump again. There’s a satisfied smile on her face before she sits back down. Beau stands up on her chair, cheering for Jester, while the rest of the bar glares, but eventually returns to their own conversation. He idly listens to these three and Nott talk amongst themselves. There’s nothing here that screams  _ danger, _ but nothing that seems normal about them either.

Although, they do seem more normal once two more strangers walk into the tavern. Caleb doesn’t know many tieflings, and yet, today he’s seen two. One, Jester, a soft blue, and this other  _ peacock _ of an individual. Purple, bright shiny horns, brighter red jacket, not a piece of himself hidden. He drinks more, watching the brightly colored man bounce from table to table, leaving behind pieces of paper as he goes. Following him, loosely, is a  _ tall _ woman, broader than a house, and paler than  _ him _ .

Eventually, the purple Tiefling sets his sights on their awkward table, and comes jaunting over. “Well!” He claps his hands as he gets near, and they all turn to look at him. “I’ve never seen a group of people more in need of a good time in my entire life.”

His accent is light, melodic and hard to pin down. Frumpkin purrs from Caleb’s feet, an airy chuckle in his head.  _ Does he remind you of anyone? _

Charming, almost defensively so, with a sly glint in his eyes. The man introduces himself as Mollymauk Tealeaf, and he is a liar.  _ Fuck you _ , Caleb tells his cat, who rolls over on his back and laughs at him.

Molly is talking to Jester now, reading her fortune for her. He’s slick, and his movements are incredibly sure, but Caleb has been watching people lie his entire life. It’s subtle, but he knows this Tiefling is full of shit and happy to share it. Caleb looks at the woman against the bar, waiting for Molly to finish.

Her eyes are bored as she watches Molly playing his tricks, and Jester leaning into his words. He flips a couple cards, spitting some sort of game or another. Nott looks at him. Her eyebrow lifted. Caleb shakes his head, taking another pull off his ale. “No, he’s bullshitting her.”

Nott nods, eyes back to watching Molly’s flourishing hand movements. Jester leans forward, her voice low. “Do you know if I’ll find him?”

“Him? Him who?”

“My dad!” Jester tells him, bright grin on her face. “I’m looking for him.”

_ Smoke, heat, a deep laugh that could shake the windows, the smell of burning flesh- _

“Caleb?”

He looks up. Nott is staring, eyebrows furrowed as she waits for him to respond. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you want to go to the carnival? The blue one invited us.”

Jester nods sagely, resting her head on her hand. “Stinky people can come too.”

“How gracious of you.” He answers her before he can stop himself, but Jester just snorts. “ _ Ja _ , of course, we can go to the circus.”

Nott smiles under her mask, and Jester claps, looking over at Beau and Fjord. “You guys! We’re making so many friends, this town is great!”

* * *

_ Astrid leads him up the stairs, telling him how many there are. He counts them along in his head, his hand squeezing her shoulder tighter. Even in the darkness, he can picture where she’s at. The wildness of her hair after a battle is legendary, and won’t be soothed until she washes it. The bandages she wrapped around his eyes itch, but she insisted he wear it.  _ You look terrifying, this curse is no joke.

_ No curse is a joke, but he’s stopped caring almost. Bren has been cursed a good number of times already, and he’s sure this won’t be the last.  It’s nice, though, that she’s been able to figure out a way to reverse curses on her own. Usually, if any of them are attacked like this, they have to wait until they’re back at the Academy before they can get healed up. Astrid calls his name, and he listens to her steps, falling in behind her as she opens the door to their rented room. She sits him down on the bed, telling him to hold on while she finds what she needs. _

_ He pulls the bandages off his face, feeling where they’ve been soaked through with his blood. She must’ve used her own bandages and when she comes closer, he reaches for her arm, fingers trailing her scars. Astrid’s breath hitches, and she waits for him to finish. “How...do know where each one is?” _

_ “I know your scars, Astrid.” He answers, like it's obvious, like he hasn’t slept with that arm around him for years now, like he hasn’t traced every single wound on her body several times over. “I know all of Wulf’s too.” _

_ “You’re just bragging now.” She tells him, her hands coming up to his face, inspecting his eyes. “They don’t stop bleeding, how do you feel? Loopy? Blood loss?” _

_ “I’m fine. Just blind.” _

_ Astrid scoffs wiping at the blood under his eyes. “Not like you’d tell me if you were.” _

_ “If I thought I might be dying I promise I would say something.” _

_ “Really comforting Bren, thanks.” Astrid rolls her eyes. (Or he’s fairly certain she does, her voice has that edge to it he recognizes). “Lean back okay?” _

_ “We’re going to get blood on the sheets.” _

_ “We would’ve done it anyways.” Astrid’s hand pushes against his chest, and he falls back, feeling her straddle his hips. He grins despite himself, hands sliding up her hips. She laughs, leaning forward. “I’m trying to work.” _

_ “I don’t remember any spell being cast like this, I’m simply trying to study it.” _

_ “ _ You’re such a fucking perv. _ ” She snickers at him, Zemnian sweet on her lips. He doesn’t answer, feeling her hands sliding up his chest to rest on his face. “Hold still okay, I’ll take care of this.” _

_ “ _ My life is in your hands _.” He smiles and she scoffs again, but it’s accompanied by that sad smile she gets sometimes, when they’re allowed to speak their language. Astrid takes a breath, muttering her spell. He feels the heat from her hands, pushing through his system as the magic searches out the curse. _

_ Finally, his vision blurs, until it starts to clear, and he sees Astrid on top of him. Her hair is as wild as he’d hoped, and she smiles at him. One of her arms is bare, and he sees the flashes of colors over barely healed scars. “Welcome back, beautiful.” _

_ He starts to answer her, before a searing pain pushes through his head, and he sits up, nearly knocking Astrid off of him. She somehow manages to hold on, staring at him as though he’s gone insane. _

_ He feels like he has, the pain is immeasurable, and he feels it from the roots of his teeth to the bones of his feet. He vaguely hears Astrid repeating his name, but he isn’t able to answer her. He does manage to get an arm wrapped around her, to prop him up, his face shoved in her neck. His fingers dig in her back, and he’s certain he’s bruising her, but he can’t stop. _

_ He sees the memory of hiding at the top of his stairs. He’s  _ home _ , it smells like it always does, and he hears his mother down in the kitchen, discussing plans with his father. _ Discussing treason.  

_ But the treason never comes. Instead, the memory itself fades, falls apart even as he’s trying to recall it. It’s always sat so prominent in his mind, the moment that solidified himself to the Empire, the moment that caused him to kill them slides from him like sand, and he’s left reeling. _

_ Bren takes a shaking breath, hidden in Astrid’s shoulder. He tries his damnedest to recall the memory, but it’s gone. Like it was never there. His fingers dig tighter into Astrid skin, and he hears her suck in a breath. Bren barely hears her, his head racing as he realizes what’s happening. What he’s just lost.  _ What never happened _. _

_ Finally, he falls back onto the bed, eyes dazed as they stare at the ceiling. Astrid looks concerned, and she goes to get up, but he grabs her hand, tugging her down next to him. She looks like she might resist, but she does eventually relax next to him, her lips resting against his forehead. “Are you okay?” _

_ He nods, aware of how badly he’s shaking compared to her. “It was just….” _

_ “A real bitch of a curse?” _

_ “ _ Ja _ , a real bitch of a curse.” He murmurs, still trying to make sense of what just happened. Not that he isn’t painfully aware of what this means, but he isn’t sure sure what to do. So he wraps an arm around Astrid, trying not to think about the sands of a memory he can’t find, and he forces himself to sleep. _

_ He needs to think about this. _

* * *

Caleb can’t recall if he’s ever been to a circus before.

Of course, if he had, he’s sure he’d remember. He can’t forget  _ anything _ , but still, something about the giant tent and colorful people around him seems familiar, in a way. Frumpkin settles down on his shoulders, looking around.  _ Well, it reminds  _ me _ of the Empire. _

_ The Empire’s dress code isn’t as colorful. _

_ And that’s why I officially like the circus more than the Empire _ . Frumpkin’s tail flicks against his face, and he ignores it, keeping an eye on Nott as they join the groups of people heading for the tent. Nott walks fine, with a slight stumble every nine steps, still a little tipsy from their brewery crawl earlier that day. Behind him, Jester points out interesting looking people as they walk, making up stories for their lives. Beau laughs, helping Jester narrate strangers lives.

It’s not hard at all to pick Molly out of the crowd, his vibrant self is outside of the tent, reading more fortunes for the villagers. Yasha is still behind him, arms crossed, same stern look on her face. Molly seems delighted to see them when they walk up, his hands outstretched to greet them. “Well! It’s my favorite people!”

Caleb listens around them as they talk, it’s mostly just villagers and their families, talking about how they’re excited for the show. He keeps tabs on the performers they saw in the parade earlier, only a few of them walking around. He sees the woman with the bright red hair, the fire spitter, and he scratches an itch deep under his skin.

Yasha pulls him back, asking for everyone weapons if they’re going to be coming to see the show. Immediately, all of his new companions seem nervous about the idea, nervous hands hovering over their respective weapons. Caleb hands over the simple dagger he keeps on himself to keep Nott placated. She thinks the dagger might end up saving him somehow, but she did hand him a good misdirection away from his spellbooks.

Eventually, begrudgingly, everyone disarms themselves, and Yasha’s eyes fall back on his again. He realizes a second too late that he’s looking at her  _ wrong,  _ he’s looking at her like he’s Bren, and Yasha doesn’t appreciate it.

“You mind if I pat you down? Give you a once over?”

Caleb holds his hands up, Frumpkin’s giddy laugh loud in his head.  _ Ohh you’re so threatening aren’t you, stringbean? Look at those scary lanky arms. _

_ You’re such a prick _ . Caleb side eyes his cat as Yasha pats him down, looking for  _ something _ , but passing over the books twice.

“Guess you’re fine, your chest just looked a little boxy, I suppose.”

Frumpkin’s laugh is  _ deafening _ .

* * *

It’s not a  _ bad _ show, he supposes.

Caleb isn’t an expert in showmanship, at least not the kind that mostly involves billowing voices and grand flourishes. He’s a master of shadow work, keeping things hidden as long as he can, preferably never being brought to the light of the surface. It’s interesting to watch something so  _ opposite _ of what he’s learned, in the woman who dances with fire. Her technique is firm, and trusting, and it nearly brings a grin to his face.

_ Those who work with fire know better than to trust it _ .

Orna finishes her act, her flames going out with her, and Caleb leans back a little, Frumpkin curled in his lap.  _ You’re being almost rudely critical. _

_ I didn’t say anything. _

_ How about  _ you _ go up there and dance and see how easy it is? _

Thankfully, Caleb is pulled from his cat’s heckling by Gustav, taking the stage again. He holds his hands out dramatically, his voice getting low. “Even as the sun would rise anew, bellowing roars will quake the lands of Xhorhas, and beyond-”

At the mention of Xhorhas, Caleb sits back up, listening intently. Gustav doesn’t seem to have anything worth listening to besides an old ghost story, setting up his next act. The mention of Xhorhas seems to bring a frown to other townsfolk sitting around them, meaning rumors of the unrest are spreading faster than the Empire can squash them. Interesting enough,  _ even more so _ if Gustav has a beast from the Wastes under his employ.  The music grows more foreboding, and desperate, and a great beast is lead onto the stage, manacled and  _ growling _ .

Jester gasps, her eyes on the creature, sketching it down in a book she carries. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?!” She whispers to them, and most of them shake their heads. Caleb shakes his head as well, even though he knows  _ exactly _ what that thing is.

Astrid had told him that story when he was younger,  _ long _ before the Academy had gotten hold of them. She had snuck into his room after midnight, Wulf not too far behind her, and they had taken turns telling each other about the scariest things they could think of. Astrid had won that game, scaring him and Wulf with the story of the  _ Nergaliid _ , a scaled beast that left the undead in its wake. He remembers the way she had laughed at them, worried faces in the dark.  _ It’s just a story, these things aren’t real! My parents promised me it was just a story _ .

Most stories are fused with truth, and he wonders if that’s truly what he’s looking at now. His fingers itch, and he flexes them carefully, waiting to see what happens first. He keeps reminding himself he’s nothing but some weak, wandering wizard, not an agent of the Empire. These little run arounds are specifically for discovering information he’d never have access to with his damned rank displayed. It’s just a stupid circus act.

At least, until it  _ isn’t _ anymore.

The young girl’s singing is beautiful, and he doesn’t pretend it doesn’t pick at a long healed scar inside of him, but he tries to keep himself steeled against it, keeping a subtle eye around him. The townsfolk are  _ enthralled _ , eyes fixed on the girl, and the Devil Toad charmed by her song. Caleb watches a man stand, his arms reaching for the girl, clearly incredibly moved by the song. His cloak, ( _ dirtier than yours _ , Frumpkin tells him) falls to the ground, and he still reaches, as though he’ll reach her from this distance. For a moment, it’s a compliment for how talented the girl is.

Then Caleb listens to the man’s bones break, crawling out from underneath his skin. His scream turns grotesque, and around them, people begin to panic. He clenches his jaw, eyes wide as he watches  _ it _ fall more and more apart.  _ What in the fuck is that?! _

Beau lifts an eyebrow, nudging Molly with her elbow. “Fuck, dude. I thought this was a little lame, but that’s fucking  _ awesome _ .”

Molly’s eyes are wide as he stares at the creature, and he instantly jumps to his feet. “ _ Get out! Go! _ ”

Caleb swears under his breath, getting to his feet as well.  _ So, not part of the show then. Fuck. _ He considers his options here, one of them being he could  _ level  _ the entire fucking place, but the fallout from that would be impossible to explain. Something like that might end up catching the Empire’s eye more than it already will, and he can’t be connected to this at all.

_ It’s like fighting with one hand behind your back. _ Frumpkin tells him, hopping off his shoulder.  _ Let me know how it goes? _

He’s not wrong, Caleb can’t  _ do _ anything he would normally do, not without outing himself.  _ So what the fuck should he do?! _

* * *

_ In the darkness of a rented room, Bren lays on his back, his fingers tangled in Astrid’s hair as she sleeps on his chest. _

_ There is nothing left inside of him, not with what he knows now. Ikithon lied to them. It shouldn’t feel like such a shock, Master Ikithon is a liar, this is a well known fact, but Bren hadn’t considered him capable of this. He manipulated them into killing their families, and  _ Bren had done it.

_ He should feel sorrow, or grief, or _ anything _. Instead, he feels nothing, he can’t even feel his own heartbeat. The only thing he knows is real, in this single moment, is Astrid’s breath tickling his skin. If he thinks about it for more than a few seconds, it feels like the world might swallow him alive. He wishes it would. _

He wishes he were dead.

_ That’s too easy though, just ending, just dying. Meeting the parents he… _

_ Rage ignites in him, and it burns. Bren feels the flames behind his eyes, his tightly bound seams bursting in heat. His breathing becomes shallow, like he might scream, like he might die. He’s going to back to the fucking Empire and he’s putting a knife in Trent’s fucking head. _

_ Astrid’s fingers come up to his face, and she taps his cheek. “‘Re ‘u ‘k’y?” _

_ She’s not awake, not at all, her eyes aren’t even open. She just knows, she always knows. Astrid rolls on her side, pulling him with her, so he’s curled around her. Bren’s rage pulses again, knowing that she has no idea how badly they’ve been manipulated. Even if he murdered Trent...the Assembly would still have Astrid, still have Wulf,  _ still have him _. They’re the greatest of Ikithon’s weapons, the culmination of their training, and the future of the Empire. _

_ Ikithon did this on purpose, Bren realizes, pulling Astrid closer. He gave them each other, and now they’re trapped in his web, knowing that they risk each other each time they rebel against him. He tries with everything he has to smother the anger inside of him, to allow him to put this behind him like he’s done with so much darkness. The longer he lays there in the silence, the worse the rage gets, until it feels light it might burn through him completely. This will not die, this will not go away, this will burn until there’s nothing left. _

_ There’s no easy answer to this, Ikithon is fucking monster, but he’s just another piece of the Empire. Ikithon’s death, while incredibly satisfying, wouldn’t be enough to fix any of this. The Empire did this, and it will keep doing things like this, until it consumes everything in front of them, for a King who really couldn’t be less involved if he tried. The Empire, the Assembly, they’ve destroyed him. They destroyed Astrid, and Wulf, and countless others. Bren can’t forget this,  _ he’ll never forget this _. _

_ So what the fuck should he do? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5k and they didn't even start fighting the Devil Toad yet. Hey did you guys know that Critrole stats in an INSANELY helpful source?? Did you know that the Nergaliid is an old Zemnian Folk tale? Shout out to the folks at Critrole states for everything you've given me, and as always SHOUT OUT TO AQUA for being the greatest beta and soundboard ever. 
> 
> youcanreplaytothisfic


	3. Just Got Me Begging for Thread to Sew That Hole That You Ripped In My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it on the bed. He sits down on the floor, his back against the bed as he looks at Nott, who sits across from him. She carefully unties her mask, and she smiles at him with crooked teeth. “That was a clusterfuck.”

While the chaos erupts around him, Caleb slinks back into the crowd.

The thing that was once the elderly man lets out a horrifying roar, it’s arms snatching a young woman near him. Its fingers dig into her chest, and she screams, blood flowing from her mouth as she does. The beast cracks her ribs, it’s mouth digging inside the chest cavity and ripping out shredded organs in its teeth. The girl falls to the ground, curled around her gaping chest. Her blood mixes with the dust, and the panic in the tent spikes.

Astrid would like this thing. She’s  _ fond  _ of the undead.

This...creature, screaming and howling near them is  _ interesting _ , if nothing else. Bones crawling out of his skin, it’s eyes move unnaturally, and it  _ reeks _ of rotting flesh. Nearby, he sees Jester on her feet, eyes bright as she takes this in. She cups her hands around her mouth, more whispers for her God.

Nothing answers her, but he watches as her form splits, two identical little blue tieflings standing there now. They take off in different directions, one of them whispering into her hands, before a bright ball of light is contained in her hands, and she sends it towards the thing. It hits the creature in its face, making it howl and glow slightly with the burning radiance. It roars, and Jester grins, her and the double both flipping it off. It snarls at her, distracted by her attitude and the running around it. Yasha hands weapons back, and he sees a flash of green as Nott disappears into the crowd as well.

Fjord jumps into action, attacking with his weapon seemingly fearlessly. Watching carefully, Caleb looks for bleeding, for weakness in the creature, but it keeps howling, keeps standing, some brackish black blood oozing from its wound.

_ Fuck him _ , this is definitely something that will make its way back to the capital. He throws his hood over his head, just in case. The wind from the screaming crowd as they pass him caresses his bare face, and he wishes for the thousandth time he didn’t look like  _ Bren _ right now.

Fjord pushes it back, just enough the thing falls into Caleb’s line of sight. He reaches into his pouch, pulling out his diamond, shaking his head. He almost hears Astrid and Wulf laughing at him as he spins it in his palm, weighing his options. Astrid would tell him to just melt the rest of its skin off, but he settles on cold, moving his ring and pinky fingers in as he casts. He holds himself back as he does it, trying not to refract too much through the diamond- that it would be  _ strange _ . (And he’s curious, how strong these people he’s met are, wants to see what they’re capable of.)

The small blast of cold hits the creature in the chest, and it screeches, bringing a deformed hand up to its chest, where the blood freezes, and it claws at it. He ducks back into the crowd, listening to Nott’s shrill voice as she tries to sing the beast away,  _ unsuccessfully _ . The creature screams, and Caleb notices, to his surprise, the woman the creature had ripped open getting back to her feet.  _ Fuck, fuck fuck fuck _ . He sees where half her heart is stilled in her open chest, and she stumbles, unfocused.

_ The entire fucking town of Trostenwald is going to be swarmed in undead. They’re going to call  _ me  _ in to deal with this.  _ Caleb groans, slipping a little further into the crowd, using their hysterics as cover. He sees flashes of color, and Molly’s bright swords as they try to carve into the creature.

Jester giggles, looking up to the sky. “This is the  _ craziest _ thing ever, are you seeing this?!” She holds her hands near her heart and shakes them. In the back of his head, Caleb hears a bell, ringing in time with the pulsing of his wound on his side. The main creature  _ howls _ , it’s hands pressing against its head.

_ So turns out you can’t just sleep off getting stabbed, who knew? _ Caleb can hear Frumpkin, but the coward is hidden well, close enough to judge him as he fights. The creature is pissed, swiping at Molly and Beau, the woman turned creature joining him in his rampage. He watches the undead bat around these strangers like they’re nothing.

_ Alright, maybe it’s time to melt some flesh.  _ He decides, casting through the diamond again. Before he sends it off, a young woman clutching her infant runs into him, knocking him back a few steps. She looks apologetic, but she keeps running, and he watches his spell fly through the tent, and out.  _ Oh fuck, better check on that later. _

Nott darts underneath his feet, hiding behind a round woman,as she aims her crossbow. The bolt flies through the air embedding itself in the creatures face, coming out its eye. Nott grins, and he watches her subtly checking the round woman for a coin pouch. The tide shifts after that, and he watches Beau and Yasha take down these creatures, brutally and efficiently.

The Crownsguard swarms in, hollering orders in a mostly empty tent. The few remaining patrons, and his party, raise their hands. Caleb does too, though it feels  _ ridiculously  _ demeaning to defer to the fucking Crownsguard. While they attempt to figure out what happened here, Caleb tries to get a read on the circus folk, all of whom seem...confused and genuine, like they’ve never seen anything like this before.

If this  _ was _ something the circus did, there would’ve been stories of it through the Empire by now. The circus comes to town, and the dead rise? That should have caught some eyes, but he’s heard  _ nothing _ . This has to be the first time this has happened. No one seems particularly shaken by this except for the Crownsguard, and Gustav, the ringleader.

His accomplices, he notices, are trying to loot the body and make jokes. From seemingly nowhere, Frumpkin jumps back on his shoulders, settling down.  _ Oh, they’re so inconspicuous, what a good pick. You really couldn’t be a better spy could you? _

Caleb watches Jester use her duplicate to trick Flynn, a very nervous Crownsgard, while she keeps looting the bodies. Jester seems not to have even an  _ ounce _ of self preservation, letting Flynn believe she might be infected. There’s chaos in her eyes, like there isn’t a goal here  _ besides _ stressing everyone out.  _ I never said I was a very good spy. _

More Crownsguard come in, one of whom wears the Watchmaster seal on his arm. He introduces himself as Watchmaster Jossyd, and he begins commanding his men to take the circus folk into custody, to make their way down to the stockade. Jossyd looks over the rest of them, eyebrow raised. “And I’m told you helped dispatch the creatures, is that correct?”

His companions nod, and Caleb steps in front of Nott, shielding her from the Crownsguard. Jossyd continues, looking over at them. “Well, we appreciate your help, but you are all officially under investigation as we try to figure out what’s happened here. In the meantime, I ask you don’t leave town just yet, gives us time to question you.”

Jester crosses her arms, looking at him. “So, do you always question innocent people?”

“If you’d like to be shackled and taken in now, we’re more than happy to accommodate you, or you can come down and answer our questions at the stocks.”

Caleb ignores him, instead realizing that they’re attempting to throw some shackles on Molly, as well as Gustav and Bo the Breaker. “Ah, Wait, ask any of these forty or so people, the colorful one helped take those creatures down, he’s not complicit.”

The Watchmaster looks Caleb over, dismissing him with a scoff. Caleb grinds his teeth, remembering he’s  _ not _ Bren, and he’s not  _ in _ uniform, but the next time he’s in this town, Bren will  _ not _ be making life easy for Watchmaster Jossyd. “Yes well. That’s not my call to make, if you feel there’s a case to be made, make it at the Stockades. Perhaps the Lawmaster will grant some leniency.”

Watchmaster Jossyd takes the chain attached to the shackles, and the remaining Crownsguard start leading them out.

_ Follow them _ . Caleb looks at Frumpkin, who leaps from his shoulders, and follows them out. Fjord and Jester head for the main exit, and Beau mentions something about the little girl before slipping out the side exit. Nott looks up at him, and they both sigh.

“We aren’t, we aren’t following them right? This isn’t our problem, we helped the town and now we’re done, right?” She asks him, and Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose.

This quickly became a mess, and he doesn’t have much time before he’s expected back in the capital. “ _ Ja _ , I’m having second thoughts about the whole thing.”

“You sent the kitty?”

“ _ Ja _ , and we won’t leave without him so….”

“So we follow, just a little behind. Slowly.”

“Slowly.” Caleb agrees, sighing deeply. “I’m going to see if I can hear anything, keep an eye on me?”

Nott nods happily, grabbing his hand. “I know the drill.”

He can’t help the smile on his face as his little goblin friend tightens her grip on his fingers, leading him forward.

* * *

_ Bren forces himself up the stairs of the academy, pausing only long enough for Astrid to catch up with him. _

_ She moves sluggishly, their fight with the Heretic Cleric still weighing on her. There’s no complaints, however, she simply catches up, and they keep moving. He rests his hand at the base of her neck, giving a squeeze. Astrid smiles, keeping her eyes on the top of the steps. “You back? You’ve been sort of...spacing out on me.” _

Smoke chokes him, standing this close, but he doesn’t look away, he can’t. There’s nothing to do but bear witness to what he’s done, in the name of the Empire. It’s the only thing that keeps him from falling apart, knowing what he did was  **right** .

_ His stomach makes a sickening twist under his skin, but he keeps his face straight. It’s not safe to be brooding now, he has to be careful. Bren forces a smile for her, adjusting so he can throw an arm over her shoulders. “I’m okay, I’m sorry. Just been a rough couple of days.” _

_ “Clerics can eat me.” She agrees, clenching her hands into fists, then releasing them. He can she flashes of the green crystals just between her knuckles on the hand that’s no longer bandaged. “Fuck them, and fuck their traitor gods, and honestly fuck that they can just slap you, and suddenly you’re bleeding out…” _

_ “Kind of a cool trick, though.” _

_ “It’s the  _ coolest  _ trick, and I wish I could do it.” She admits, her feet finally reaching the top of the stairs, and she pauses to take a breath. “I would love that.” _

_ “We could probably figure it out.” Bren tells her, looking around. Wulf waves at them from the front of the building, and Bren waves back. “Welcome wagon is here.” _

_ “Does he have mead?” _

_ “I don’t think so.” _

_ Astrid finds him then, and flips him off. “I gave him one job.” _

_ Wulf joins them, grabbing both of them in his arms, and squeezing. He doesn’t let go, even as they squeak, and beg him for mercy. He’s still in his travel clothes, and there’s a large gash on his head that’s starting to scab. Astrid breaks free first, slipping underneath her taller teammates. “What happened to your head?” _

_ “Should’ve dodged.” He answers, releasing Bren so he can bring a hand to the wound. “I’m alright though, just bled a bunch. Head wound. What about you two? You look....” _

_ “Haggard?” _

_ “Beat to fucking shit?” _

_ “Both.” Wulf rolls his eyes. “I didn’t miss much then?” _

_ “We hate clerics now.” Astrid tells him, crossing her arms. _

_ “Noted.” _

_ “Did you check in with Ikithon?” Bren asks, and Wulf nods. _

_ “ _ Ja _ , he’s...Ikithon. Didn’t seem impressed one way or the other about my mission, so if you’re lucky, you’ll be met with some cold indifference.” _

_ “Gods, I hope so.” Astrid sighs, running a hand through her wild hair. “I miss my bed.” _

_ Bren would like to not be conscious as soon as possible, since sleep is the only reprieve to the constant rage burning under his skin. It’s only been a day since Astrid accidently removed that false memory, and he’s still in some sort of shock, and that will get him through this meeting with Master Ikithon. Then, he can...he can make up some sort of plan?  _ To do what, you idiot? Kill your master? Burn down the academy? No matter what you do, it won’t be you who suffers for it.

_ “Bren?” _

_ He looks up, to find Wulf and Astrid staring at him. Wulf nods, looking at her. “Yeah, okay, he’s a little spacy.” _

_ “He got thrown around a little bit.” Astrid sighs, jerking her head towards the building. “Come on, let’s go report so we can get your head fixed a little better.” _

_ Bren just nods, letting her lead him towards the door. Wulf hollers he’ll see them after, and they make their way up the next set of steps. “Remember, we just need to answer the questions. He doesn’t need to know if we had one second of fun while we were on assignment.” _

_ Astrid laughs, loud and obnoxious, and she grabs his hand, squeezing his fingers.  “I know the drill.” _

* * *

Frumpkin watches their new compatriots haggle for the release of Mollymauk, almost impressively so.

The Lawmaster is a stern woman, her black hair streaked in silver, and she couldn’t look  _ more  _ annoyed.  _ It’s late and she thinks your group is stupid _ .

_ They aren’t my group. _

Frumpkin scoffs, just in time for Jester to smile brightly at the rest of them (however, Beau the Beast and Yasha are not there.) in her office. “Awh, we’re a  _ group _ you guys!”

_ You were saying? _

_ Pay attention. _ Caleb orders him, trying to focus on Nott’s hand, to make sure she isn’t warning him about anything. Frumpkin rolls his eyes, but keeps listening in on the conversation. Caleb is mostly concerned about the  _ Do not leave town _ aspect, as he’s not planning on being here more than a couple more days, and a demon circus isn’t going to stop him from leaving.

But he doesn’t want to leave any heat on his little friend either, since he won’t be here to help her with it. So...they’re going to need to make a few decisions. Caleb snaps his fingers, Frumpkin appearing back on his shoulder, and Nott looks at him. “Anything good?”

“We need to get back and talk about  _ our _ next step. This is going to get messy, quickly, and we can’t really be caught up in this, right?”

“I don’t  _ want _ to be.” She admits, readjusting her mask. “I’m not sure.”

“Let’s go, quick, before they end up catching us out here. We need to go talk about it.”

Nott nods, and they stick to the shadows as they make their way back to the Tavern. Yorda nods at them as they enter, and they head to their room, locking the door behind them. Caleb shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it on the bed. He sits down on the floor, his back against the bed as he looks at Nott, who sits across from him. She carefully unties her mask, and she smiles at him with crooked teeth. “That was a  _ clusterfuck _ .”

“ _ Ja _ , massively so,” Caleb runs a hand across his face, looking at her. “We came to this town for a few reasons.”

“Booze, books, and information.” Nott answers, frowning. “We’ve not gotten much of any.”

“That, and, we were hoping to find some more people right, to have others to look after you when I have to go.”

“I don’t  _ need _ to be watched.”

“I know, I know.” He holds up his hands. “It’s just safer, and it would allow you more freedoms, give you a chance to walk through these towns instead of just the outskirts.  _ However _ , these people are absolutely  _ insane _ , and I think I was wrong. We might be safer without them, almost absolutely safer without them. My plan was terrible.”

Nott nods, thinking. “Okay, solid point. Counter point, these people are  _ insane _ , and I think that’s  _ exactly _ what we need. No one is going to notice a little goblin girl when there’s multicolored tieflings running around and smashing shit, or a foul mouthed monk, I would be the  _ least _ interesting thing in that group, and that’s not easy to do. Besides, we need the buffer, you almost  _ died _ , again, yesterday.”

“That is...that is true,  _ ja _ .” He doesn’t know how to tell her they really don’t need to worry about him, without outing himself in some way. “They are slightly distracting…they are hard to ignore. But that leads me to wonder if that’s wise? People who draw attention  _ draw attention _ .”

“I think...I think we should still keep pretending, to like them. If nothing else, they have  _ a lot of secrets  _ with them, and I want to know them.”

Caleb nods, smile on his face. “I do too. Okay, we will be nice, because we didn’t do anything wrong! All we did was go and see a show, this time, we’re innocent.”

“That’s true!” Nott agrees, pointing at him. “And you know? It was kind of a nice show, until the…you know, bone creatures happened.”

“It was pretty good. Up until then.” He agrees. “So, we should go downstairs? They’ll be back soon, we don’t want them to think we skipped out or anything.”

“Right, we’re just...we’re just traveling.” Nott putting her mask back on, looking up at him. “And a drink?”

“ _ Ja _ , I could use a drink.” Or five. Maybe ten? This was  _ supposed  _ to be a small break from his Empire work, not a fucking circus with a body count, and a beast from Xhorhas that just  _ happens _ to be innocent? Nothing about this tracks with what Bren knows, but he doesn’t know  _ everything _ , and if there’s one thing he loves, it’s being proved wrong.

Caleb follows Nott downstairs, finding Beau and Jester at the bottom of the steps. Jester gasps, looking back to the tavern. “No they’re here, I told you!”

“Come have a drink with us.” Beau looks at him, and her eyes are distrustful.  _ Good _ . His are too. Beau is...brash, and loud, and not afraid to throw a fist. He has to wonder who she belongs to, which path she walks. Her blues are strictly Empire, and there’s no other giveaways about her, beside the anger she wears on her knuckles.

_ Where’s your path taking you? _

“A drink sounds great.” Caleb answers, giving a small smile, trying to keep himself from being  _ too _ friendly. A charming man isn’t going to make Beauregard trust him  _ more _ , that much is clear. She nods, and they make their way back to the table where the rest of them are sitting, a few tankards already on the table.

It’s painfully awkward, and Caleb simply waits for his drink to arrive, and watches. Molly seems very calm for the shitty day he’s had, although his tail flicks nervously now and then. Fjord and Jester have the good sense to at least appear to be tired, and Beau seems pissed more than anything else. Jester catches him staring at Beau’s scowl and she holds her hand up, whispering loudly. “ _ She’s mad cuz she went to jail _ .”

“Jester.” Beau grumbles, and Nott snickers behind her mask. Beau gives the two of them a once over, eyes narrowed. “What’s uh, what’s your story anyways?”

“Our story?”

“Yeah, what are you two doing here in the first place?”

Caleb and Nott look at each other, and shrug. “We’re just travelers, you know? Looking for adventure and all of that.”

“What brought you here?”

“We heard the booze was good.” Nott continues. “We haven’t had much of it though, it’s hard to say.”

“You staying in town long?” Fjord asks, eyes mostly watching Caleb as he does. Caleb shrugs, accepting his tankard from the barmaid and settling back into his chair.

“We really don’t stay anywhere that long.”

“Mostly my fault.” Nott sighs, looking down. “I have sticky fingers, and people really don’t like that. And I really enjoy collecting things.”

“Oh! What kind of things!” Jester smiles at her, resting her head on her hand as she listens. Caleb watches her carefully, looking for  _ any _ sort of malice, but the girl seems genuinely interested in Nott’s story. She seems to  _ genuinely _ not care that Nott is a goblin. “Like cool rocks?”

“I did! I had a cool rock collection, and a sticks, and things like that. Baubles and trinkets but...I don’t have those...anymore. They were taken.”

Inside, Bren frowns, thinking about all those things Nott lost when they had broken out. He had genuinely felt bad about that, he had hoped they would be able to get them, but the guards had sold off most of it by the time they’d escaped. Nott promised him it hadn’t bothered her, but he knew she was lying a little. Nott sighs, and he gives her a small smile over his glass.

Jester looks equally as sad. “Oh no! Who took them?”

“Oh...they were more lost, I suppose, in the prison before-” Nott freezes, and Caleb sighs, setting his glass down. “I uh, I think I’ve said too much.”

“I’m sorry.” Jester tells her, and she  _ means _ it. Beau and Fjord are staring at them, but Jester keeps going. “But if you were like, stealing sticks and rocks I don’t get why they would care so much?”

Nott fiddles with the frayed edges of her cloak, and Caleb has to fight a smile. “Well...they were like...people’s canes and things…”

Beau, Molly and Fjord nearly spit out their drinks, their laughter loud and distracting in the bar. Jester giggles too, and Beau leans forward. “Wait...if canes are sticks, then rocks?”

“Those shiny rocks that humans sometimes wear on their fingers, and necks sometimes. It’s the  _ shiny _ part I like.”

“That’s what I was hoping you would say.” Beau laughs. Jester’s face lights up, and she asks Nott to try and steal from her. Caleb looks around while they do that, taking note of the two Crownsguard that weren’t there when Caleb and Nott had returned...probably came to follow their little jailbird back. Beau pissing off the crownsguard makes it a  _ little _ harder for them to come and go as they please, or even for  _ him _ to get out. He and Nott weren’t asked not to leave town, but if they  _ did _ , they would suddenly be considered  _ suspicious _ , more so than they already were, if Beau’s steady eye on them was any indication.

And if they left, and  _ he _ left, Nott would pay for that fallout.

The more he thinks about it, the more he’s coming to the conclusion that he needs to figure out what the  _ fuck _ happened here, and quickly, or it’s going to start interfering with his day job. And the other one. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels Nott patting his leg, and he smiles before he even looks at her. He pats the top of her head, and Jester yawns, sitting back in her chair. “Alright you bitches, I’m ready for bed.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” He agrees, and they settle their tab, heading for their rooms. Nott jumps up on the bed, undoing her mask while Caleb pulls out his spool with silver wire, laying it down. She watches him work for a moment, then she speaks.

“Beau is from Kamordah, and she speaks halfling. She says it’s cuz her parents work in the wine business, and they do a lot of business with halflings. When she said it, it sounded a little more racist but whatever. Jester is from Nicodranas, and Fjord is from Port Damali. Molly said he’s been with the carnival his whole life, but Molly is a lair.”

He finishes his spell, and comes to sit next to her on the bed. “I was zoned out for a while then.”

“Just a little, but that’s why you have me, right?”

“That’s one of many reasons,  _ ja _ .” He lays back on the bed, running a hand through his hair. Nott curls up against his knee, sighing.

“How long before you need to leave again?”

“I really should go in a couple days.”

“So we need to solve this ourselves, huh?”

“We’re going to have to, I think.” He sighs, throwing his arm over his eyes. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about these people, but we’re sort of stuck with them for now.”

“We’ll do what we have to.” Nott replies. “We always do.”

* * *

_ Bren and Astrid wait for Master Ikithon to acknowledge them, as he scans some of the papers in front of them. _

_ Rage dances along his vision, but he forces it down. It’s useless to be angry without a plan, so he smothers the final flames of betrayal inside of him, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he waits. Next to him, Astrid waits just as impatiently, sore and annoyed that she’s still conscious, but her ever present smile on her face. Finally, Master Ikithon looks at them, his eyebrow raised. “I assume you were successful.” _

_ “The heretic cleric has been dispatched.” Bren tells him, fingers clenched behind his back. “We caught her trying to flee from Alfield, she was taken down outside of the city.” _

_ “Her body?” _

_ “Immolated.” He responds, and Astrid speaks up. _

_ “Nothing left but ash, a handful of coins, and a bone that would not burn.” She places the bone on his desk, and he looks it over. _

_ “Was it Identified?” _

_ “No,” Bren answers, eyes on Ikithon. “My vision had become impaired to the point of inability to ritually cast.” _

_ “The heretic cursed him,” Astrid continues for him. “It caused his eyes to bleed continuously, and left him completely blind.” _

_ Ikithon stops writing, looking up at the both of them. “How did you remove it?” _

_ Astrid’s soft smile never leaves her face. “I did. I removed the curse, allowing Bren to regain his eyesight, and reducing the chance of attack on our way back to the capitol.” _

_ Ikithon’s eyes jump from her to Bren, and for just a moment, he sees a flash of worry across his master’s face. It’s instantly smothered once more, and he simply regards Bren. He’s looking for any cracks, any signs that Astrid might have removed that false memory in his head. Rage bubbles through his skin, and he pictures destroying Ikithon, right there, right in front of him. He takes a breath, tempering that rage. He never breaks Ikithon’s gaze. _

_ Master Ikithon stands then, his eyes darkened with rage. “I don’t seem to recall approving that spell for you.” _

_ Astrid never stops smiling. “I thought, since healing capabilities have been left to me, it would be vital to be able to remove a curse in the field. It proved to be so, as without it, it would’ve left me completely alone with a blinded and bleeding party member.” _

_ Ikithon’s eyes barely narrow, and Bren feels his jaw clench. “It’s not a matter of what half baked excuse you can think of, child, it’s about making sure each spell you’ve mastered is well documented and understood by the rest of your team. It’s about following orders, and if I haven’t given you permission to learn something, you’d damn well better not have that spell in your book.” _

_ Astrid winces slightly, and Bren takes a breath. “If she hadn’t had that spell, I would’ve been a liability on more than one occasion-” _

_ “Then, you shouldn’t have been hit with a curse,  _ boy _ , that’s how you solve that problem.” _

_ He moves around his desk, and Bren steps in front of Astrid slightly. It’s pointless, but he can’t help himself. He hears her barely whisper it’s fine, before Ikithon approaches them both, a hardened look in his eyes. “While your mission may have been a success, I’m  _ less  _ than impressed with the execution. Orders above all else, Astrid, I would’ve thought you’d known that.” _

_ He’s speaking to Astrid, but he’s staring at Bren, searching. It takes everything he has not to speak back to Ikithon, but he knows anything he does will be taken out on Astrid, more than it already will be. There’s no reason he would be this upset at her healing the curse unless there was something specific they did in the removal here at the school that allowed them to work past the fake memory he’s implanted in his students. Instead, he stands at attention while Ikithon grabs Astrid’s arm, leading her towards the door. “Excused, Bren. I’ll call for you later.” _

_ Bren counts ten seconds, fifteen, twenty, until half a minute’s passed, and the rage bleeds from his eyes, and he’s able to see again. He leaves the office, heading for his quarters. Outside the door, he takes a deep breath, and screams silently at the dark wood before he walks inside. Wulf is on the couch, a rag pressed to his head. He takes one look at the dark look on Bren’s face, and the lack of Astrid behind him, and he goes pale. _

_ “What happened?” _

_ “I’m not even sure.” Bren snarls, flopping down next to him. Wulf lifts his hand, like he might reach out for a moment, but he stops, noticing the tension in Bren’s shoulders. “Is there ever a fucking reason.” _

_ “For fuck’s sake, what is your deal? This isn’t the first time...I mean, did she  _ do  _ something?” _

_ Wulf asks cautiously, and Bren scoffs. “She didn’t do anything. She healed me, that’s what he’s fucking pissed about...she…” _

She showed me the truth.

_ He can’t tell Wulf that, he can’t tell anyone that, once Ikithon knows that he’s actually lost that memory, he’ll be killed. Bren feels the rage in his veins, hotter than the flames he’s used to holding, and he knows it’s a weakness. It’s nothing that will aide him, at least not yet, it’s only going to cloud his mind and leave him half as good as he should be. He has  _ nothing _ , no proof, no plan, nowhere to start. All he knows for sure is Ikithon placed a fake memory in his head, and he killed his parents over it. _

_ Sorrow joins the rage, bitter and nostalgic, and he tries to shove that one down too. Pointless, these feelings are all pointless. There is nothing he can do except wait. _

Wait for a plan

Wait for an answer

Wait for Astrid.

_ Eventually, he feels Wulf’s move closer, throwing his arm around his shoulder. “It’s fine, it’s Astrid, she’s going to be okay. Come on, why don’t you come spar with me.” _

_ “You have a head wound.” _

_ Wulf laughs, slapping his back. “Oh Bren, you’re not going to be able to hit my face. Beside, it’ll help you burn off all this...you know…” _

_ “I’m exhausted.” Bren tries to argue, and Wulf shakes his head. _

_ “What, you telling me you’re about to go to sleep?” Bren groans, dropping his head in his hands. “That’s what I thought. Come on, it’ll help pass the time, and I bet she’s here when we get back.” _

_ Bren considers it for a moment, then sighs, getting to his feet. “ _ Ja _ , if you think this well help.” _

_ “We’ll do what we have to.” Wulf promises, getting up and throwing his arm around Bren’s shoulders again, leading him towards the door. “We always do.” _

* * *

Caleb wakes up, just about thirty minutes before dawn.

Nott is curled up by his feet, and Frumpkin is on his chest, staring at him. Caleb lifts an eyebrow at his familiar.  _ Ja, something I can do for you? _

_ No, not really. Just curious about what you’re planning to do? _

_ You’re usually not one for a plan. _

You’re _ not usually one for people, my favorite little liar. _

Caleb sighs, running his hand over Frumpkin’s back. His cat purrs, and he closes his eyes again, waiting.  _ They aren’t for me. _

_ So it’s for the Goblin? _

_ Her name is Nott. _

_ Fascinating, aren’t you? But if  _ He _ asked, you’d light them all on fire in a heartbeat. _

Caleb opens his eyes, but doesn’t look at his cat. The ceiling of the Nestled Nook is a smooth brown wooden color, and it almost look shiny in the dim lights of his room.  _ Sure, but what does that matter, I’d burn you too. _

Frumpkin purrs, settling in on his chest.  _ Oh, I was just curious _ .

_ Kills cats, you know. _

Frumpkin laughs, and Nott finally stirs from her sleep, line of drool coming off her face. “ _ Fuck _ , are we still here?”

“ _ Ja _ , we’re still here.”

Nott sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Can we drink yet?”

Caleb nods, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Frumpkin leaping from his chest. “That works for me, come on then.”

She pulls her mask on, following him down the stairs to the tavern. She gets herself a trost, and a plate of food for breakfast. Caleb picks a couple things off her plate, but mostly looks around. He’s keeping his eyes on the windows, and the door, looking for any sort of indication the Crownsguard are still posted there. There’s no reason they wouldn’t be, but the desire to sneak out of this town unnoticed is weighing on the back of his head. He resists, knowing if nothing else, these are not people he wants to slight.

While Nott’s working on her breakfast, her eyes land on something behind his shoulder, her ears flattening just a little. Caleb goes to look, but a purple hand rests on his shoulder, and Mollymauk sits down across from him. Nott keeps her narrowed eyes on him, but Caleb just stares. “Morning.”

“Good morning, handsome. What’s got you up so early?”

“Don’t like to waste a day.” Caleb answers, staring at his red eyes. Molly’s mask is flawless, cemented in charm. He’s difficult to read, but only when he wants to be. He’s happy to lie and lie obviously, but that makes it all the harder to recognize the truth. There’s an inherent smugness in him that Caleb’s only ever seen in Astrid before.  _ She would hate him _ .

_ Wulf though? Wulf would love this guy _ .

“Where did you friend go?” Caleb asks, and Molly shrugs.

“Wherever the wind takes her, she’s a free spirit, a breeze never to be contained, plus she doesn’t like the Crownsguard, they’re such dicks.” Molly throws his boots on the table, narrowly missing Nott’s plate. Her glare only deepens.

“Nothing to do with the fact that your circus caused two deaths? It’s an unfortunate time to run.”

Molly raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. “It’s the circus, we come and we go as we please. It’s not like the military, where you need to be sitting on your bedroll, accounted for every second of every day.”

_ You’d be surprised what they let you run around and do _ .

Caleb shrugs, keeping his eyes on Molly. Nott keeps eating, but she keeps glancing between the two of them. Molly grins at him, brilliantly, and he gets up from the table. “Your concern for my friend warms my heart, pretty boy, I best be leaving her a note, don’t you think?”

Nott watches him walk away, and she leans towards Caleb. “Did he strike a vibe for you?”

“Nothing I liked.” He answers her, picking up his glass.

“He’s flirting with you.”

“I don’t think he knows my name.” Caleb tells her, and Nott snorts, going back to her breakfast.

It’s not long before the rest of the “accused” make their way down for breakfast as well. Jester is beaming, cheerful and happy as she bounces over to them, her energy at an eleven. Nott sighs into her trost, an incredulous look on her face. “She’s a morning person too, unbelievable.”

Once they’re settled, Fjord and Jester start whispering about wanting to investigate the situation themselves, and Caleb can’t help but agree. They need this  _ solved _ , quick as they can. He can’t  _ help _ but remember that he and Nott could leave, they weren’t bound to this town, and they weren’t on any sort of shit list with the Lawmaker. While the rest of them go to try to disguise themselves, he brings this up to Nott, hoping he can get her to leave with him.

Nott thinks about it, she really does, but when she looks up at him there’s something in her eyes. “We can go, if you think we should, we will. But...I haven’t been able to speak freely in a very long time, and I can do that here. So...if we can help them? I would like that.”

He sits quietly, trying to weigh his options. Caleb is confident this is something he could solve, but he wouldn’t be able to use his usual tricks. He did have this group with him, as much an asset as it is was a hindrance. They could cover more ground, but he had no way of knowing if they would ask the right questions. Honestly, he didn’t have high hopes.

When they finally come back down, Beau looks like a boy, Fjord has become and old farmer, Jester looks like a noblewoman and Molly is slinking around in a black cloak, makeup covering his purple skin.

“See!” Nott tells him, gesturing to the rest. “It’s going to be fine!”

_ They’re never going to get out of this town _ .

* * *

_ Bren ducks, narrowly avoiding Wulf’s fist, only to put his face right in the trajectory of his knee. _

_ Wulf’s knee connects with his face, and he hears a crack, sending him onto his side. When he brings his hand to his face, he feels blood, and Wulf is swearing, kneeling down next to him. “ _ Gottverdammt _! Bren! Why the fuck did I teach you  _ Shield  _ if you won’t use it?” _

_ A few of the other mages sparring look over, some of them  _ shocked  _ by the poor showing Trent’s favored pupil is giving. Others trying to fight a smile at how far the Hound of the Empire flew when that knee broke his nose. Wulf’s hands are on his face, using his sleeve to wipe the blood off Bren’s face. “I’m sorry.” _

_ “Don’t apologize, just...where is your head?” _

_ Bren sighs, pulling himself back to his feet. “Let’s go again.” _

_ “Absolutely not.” Wulf gets to his feet as well, shaking his head. “I’ve been kicking your ass for two days now, and you’re only getting worse. I’m not going to keep beating on you just like this. You aren’t even  _ trying  _ to defend yourself.” _

_ He shrugs, pressing his palm to his nose, letting his bandages soak up the blood. “I’m rusty.” _

_ “Come on.” Wulf rests his hand on the back of Bren’s neck, and leads him from the training hall, back towards their quarters. “You’re a fucking idiot sometimes, Red.” _

_ Bren sits down on their couch, unwinding the bandages on his arm so he can bundle them under his nose. Wulf sits across from him, annoyed look on his face. “Wulf can you-” _

_ “I thought you were just worried about Astrid, I understand that...it’s been...a couple days now…” _

_ “Almost three, in two hours, it’ll be three.” _

_ Wulf leans forwards, their foreheads pressed together. “I’m worried now, I need you to tell me what’s going on.” _

_ There’s  _ so  _ much Bren wants to tell him, and with Wulf’s hand on his face, he nearly does. Instead, just the slightest bit of truth leaks out. “It’s my fault. She’s being punished because of me. And it’s been days now, and…” _

_ “Ah, that old game, huh?” Wulf pulls back far enough to press a kiss against his forehead, and he gets up, moving to get him some water. “Bren, you’ve taken a  _ lot  _ of hits that were meant for us. Astrid isn’t going to be upset because she had to take one.” _

_ “...An hour and fifty six minutes before it’s been three days. He’s never kept us for longer than two.” _

_ “I’m sure there’s a reason.” _

The reason is revenge, the reason is punishment, the reason is sadism, the reason is I’ve broken off my leash and he can’t prove it, so he’s provoking me.

_ “No reason is worth this.” He mumbles, pulling away the bandages from his nose, checking the blood. Wulf starts walking back towards him, water in hand, when they hear the doorknob move. Instantly, Bren in on his feet, and the two of them watch Ikithon stroll in, and eyebrow lifted at Bren’s nose. _

_ “Gentlemen, I trust you’re well.” _

_ “Yes, thank you.” Wulf answers, eyes nervously darting between Bren and Master Ikithon. He glances at Bren, just for a moment, before he waves a hand. Behind him, Astrid shuffles in. _

_ What skin is visible is a patchwork of black, purple and red. She’s got barely healed cuts on her arms, some of them corresponding with crystals, some of them don’t. It’s not the physical beating that worries Bren, it’s the complete blankness in her eyes. She stumbles over to the couch, and falls over onto the cushions. Neither boy moves, waiting for Ikithon to give them a nod before he takes his leave. Once the door closes, they move. _

_ Bren kneels in front of her, whispering in Zemnian, trying to find her in there. Astrid doesn’t look at him, wrapping her arms around herself tighter. She’s shaking, and Bren feels his rage bubbling under his skin.  _ He could fucking murder Ikithon. He could do it. One fireball and that fucking sadist would be ash in his hands.

_ Wulf appears next to him, setting down the water, and whispering. “I’m going to touch you now, Astrid, okay?” _

_ She doesn’t answer, just brings her arms over her head. Bren sighs, getting to his feet and stalking to each of their rooms, ripping bedding off the beds. He’s furious, but he needs to get it under control. Rage isn’t going to help her, so as he collects blankets, he evens out his breathing until his jaw isn’t clenched, and his shoulders relax. When he comes back, Wulf has gotten her moved so she’s slumped against him. Bren drops a blanket over them, as sits down next to Astrid. _

_ This is something he knows how to handle, and he puts a hand on her shoulder. “Astrid, are you okay?” _

_ She doesn’t answer him, just closes her eyes. Wulf look at him over her head, eyes bouncing between horror and rage. “Hey, is there anything bleeding that we need to patch up, any open wounds, we have to do that quick.” _

_ Astrid shakes her head, but it’s a start, it’s something. Bren moves closer, so he can whisper to her. “Is anything broken?” _

_ She lifts her hand from Wulf’s chest, and he can see her pointer finger is swollen and black. Bren nods, shifting so Wulf can gently move her from his chest to Bren’s, her back to him. “I’ll go get a split, just hold on okay?” _

_ Astrid leans back into him, moving her head so she and finally speak. “I...I don’t...know...what I did.” _

_ He pauses, wondering what she means like that. Does she not remember why this happened to her at all? Did Trent take that from her? Or did she not understand why he reacted so violently towards her doing her job. Regardless, he can’t dwell on it. She spoke, and he can’t have slipping away again. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” _

_ “I must’ve.” She mumbles, and he shakes his head. _

_ “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” _

_ Wulf comes back, grabbing her hand and splinting her finger. “It’ll heal up quick. Don’t worry.” _

_ Astrid doesn’t answer him, just watches him wind the bandages around her finger. Bren looks at the scarring on her knuckles, newer, like she’s been  _ fighting  _ something. Rage keep trying to burn through him, but he fights it down the best he can. Intead, he waits for Wulf to finish, and he pushes his temple against hers. “Is it okay if I play with your hair?” _

_ She nods, barely moving against him. Wulf helps rearrange them all, so that Bren can run his finger through her hair, winding it into terrible braids. Wulf holds her hand, and they talk softly, telling her about how badly Wulf kicked his ass, how many academy students saw him lose again and again, how much they missed her. Astrid lays there, eyes half open as she listens to them, her breathing slow. _

_ It’s wrong, she’s not like this, she’s never like this. Bren keeps his fingers in her hair, his voice low. “Astrid, I need you to tell me you’re here, that you’re okay?” _

_ Shakily, she holds up her free hand, flipping him off. _

_ “See?” Wulf huffs a laugh, holding them both closer. “It’s going to be fine.” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters keep getting progressively longer, but I will not stop. Shout out as always to Aqua, who is the best beta, best soundboard, and purveyor of the finest vintage angst. Like, just the most tragic stuff. It breaks me to think about. AS ALWAYS! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed and Happy Saint Patrick's Day
> 
> youcanreplytothisfic!!


	4. Lighting Matches Just To Swallow Up The Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You adapt well to the unknown, you’re smart enough to formulate a plan in seconds, and it isn’t often you have to learn a lesson twice. It’s one of your better qualities, actually. I imagine you’re smart enough to understand how vital that is. Because my boy, I can’t stress enough how dangerous it would be to not learn these lessons.”
> 
> Bren’s eyes narrow, his hand clenching into a fist for only a moment, before he relaxes it. Ikithon watches him carefully, and he nods. “I’m fairly smart, sir.”

Bren wakes up to blood. 

He’s pretty sure it’s his, and he can taste it on his teeth, and in the back of his throat. In a few seconds it takes for his vision to stop blurring, he’s  _ fairly _ certain he’s going to vomit a  _ bunch _ of blood. He blinks, his sight clearing to Nott hovering over him, her mismatched teeth in every direction. She beams at him, and he groans, sitting up slowly.

“Again?”

“Again.” She tells him, patting his shoulder softly. He coughs, blood spilling into his hand.  _ Ah, he was right _ . Bren is so  _ annoyed _ , that a fucking imp nearly killed him.  _ An imp. _ Like he’s a fucking student again. He’s overshooting by a mile, he thinks, spitting more blood from his teeth. He doesn’t need to  _ die _ , he just need to  _ time _ the hits better. Even a godsdamned hobo has  _ some _ survival instinct. Next time...next time he’s going fucking  _ dodge _ , just a little.

Around him, he watches Jester dance with her duplicate, just happy to be  _ alive _ , Fjord and Molly look shell shocked, like they can’t believe this just happened. Neither can he, if he’s being honest. Some part of him thinks this is...funny. Astrid told him about those damned things, so long ago. The idea  _ terrified _ him when he was little, but looking at the creature now, it’s jaw broken, giant tongue lolling from its mouth, he finds he just... _ appreciates _ it. That thing did  _ not _ want to die, Bren can respect that.

Beau kicks some dirt over the smoldering corpse of the Imp, clearly annoyed. “ _ Fuck _ those things.”

“I think this is the most people I’ve ever seen almost  _ die _ .” Jester adds cheerfully, her duplicate disappearing behind her. “So, you know,  _ crazy day _ .”

Molly shakes his head, eyes staring at the fiend at their feet, a weird sort of pain in his eyes. “Crazy day.”

Bren can’t trust a word Mollymauk Tealeaf says, that was obvious in the first fifteen minutes, but there’s something about him that seems genuine now. He didn’t know his fellow carnie was capable of  _ whatever _ this was, and he seems nearly mournful over it. Bren watches him look from the fiend, over to where the little girl was slumped over.

Bren doesn’t really believe she’s innocent, but he has nothing to base this off of. He simply doesn’t believe something like  _ that _ took the girl in out of pity. However, he’s not sure these companions of his are going to be too keen on him putting a traumatized little girl on trial.

From the trees above, there’s a flutter a wings, and Frumpkin returns to his shoulder, judgmental look in those beady eyes.  _ This is the second time in three days you’ve just about died. _

_ Thanks, I hadn’t been keeping count. _

_ You have a shield spell, I can’t help but remind you. _

_ Bren has that. Caleb doesn’t. _

_ Well  _ Caleb _ is going to get you murdered. And also, if I’m not back to my beautiful self in two days I will start shitting on everything you care about. _

Bren waves his hand at the damned little sparrow, but Frumpkin just hops to his other shoulder. Nott tugs on his arm, looming worried. “Can you get up?”

“ _ Ja _ , I’m fine, I’m fine.” He assure her, getting too his feet. He’s  _ not _ fine, actually. He can feel himself bleeding still, but it’s nothing that’s going to kill him  _ again _ . With a crack of his knuckles, he begins surveying the scene. Beau and Fjord are looking at the creature, then at each other.

“Well we need to bring it…”

“Maybe just the head? Molly? Can you cut off its fucking head?”

“I mean? I  _ can _ .” He answers, an eyebrow raised at his fallen comrade. Jester is picking at the body, looking it over closely. She finds something, and holds it in the air, triumphantly.

“You guys! I found a bag!”

“If we can get the head to the Lawmaster, maybe we can get cleared, and we won’t have to stick around under a half arrest anymore.” Fjord continues, and Molly sighs, lifting his swords again.

“Fine.”

Jester’s voice rings out again. “It’s  _ full of skin you guys! _ ”

Beau sighs, her staff resting on her shoulders. “I dunno if a head is going to prove much beside we murdered this guy? Like, should we have taken him alive?”

“There was no taking him in  _ alive _ .” Fjord shakes his head, gesturing to himself, then to Bren, and Molly. “It would’ve killed us.”

“Oh I found rings in the skin bag!” Jester hollers again, and Nott’s ears pick up. Bren gestures over there, and she’s off, wanting to see what they had pulled that could be  _ sparkly _ . Bren joins the rest of them at the creature, looking it over.

“We can move the head as far as the deck, then bring the Lawmaster to it. We shouldn’t move it through town. Unless you’re  _ looking _ for that kind of attention.”

“We aren’t.” Fjord shakes his head. “Okay, Molly, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Molly sighs, jewels on his horns sparkling in the moonlight as he does. “Sure, why not  _ decapitate _ an old acquaintance of mine. It’s not like we’ve shared a table for years now.”

“He makes zombies for fun.”

“I don’t think it was for  _ fun _ .” Molly argues, but he begins hacking at the creature, an unimpressed looked on his face. Beau shrugs, looking up at the moons in the sky.

“God it’s gotta be like 2 in the morning by now.”

“It’s 34 minutes after midnight.” Bren sighs, and Beau looks at him, confused.

“What you just, know that?”

“ _ Ja _ . I do.”

“You’re a little weird, you know?”

“ _ Ja _ , I know.”

While Molly finishes up, Bren looks Fjord over, remembering that when they had come to this island, he very much  _ wasn’t  _ Fjord. “You lost your face.”

Fjord blinks, then sighs. “Ah, shit you’re right, we’re uh, we’re going to have to account for that.”

Bren sighs, and Frumpkin’s deep laugh echos in his head.  _ These are the  _ worst _ spies in the Empire. You could not have picked an more inept group of people to be lumped in with. Amazing. _

“Any chance we can step a little quicker?” He asks, his vision swimming a little. “I’m mostly blood at this point, and we still need to talk to the Lawmaker about all this. And I would really like to get some sleep.”

“Let’s get it done then.”

Beau and Jester manage to get the head onto the boat, the poor terrified captain shakily accepting their bribe and their warning. They pile back into the boat, and Bren exhales, relaxing just a little. There is an uneasy silence for a few moments, and Beau breaks it with a swear.

“Fuck man, we can’t be there for this. We needed to be back at the Inn, the only person who would’ve been allowed to do this is...well, Caleb.”

_ Fuck him, she’s right.  _ Bren had forgotten that part, between the constant dying he’s suddenly taking up as a hobby. That means he’s the only one who can take this to the Lawmaker. This actually might finally work in their favor, if he can deliver the evidence as Bren instead. He’s not smart enough to leave behind a  _ little bit _ of proof he’s part of the Empire, the Assembly. And that should get them in and out of the Lawmaker’s office easily enough.  

Ideally, of course.

Next to him, Jester keeps poking the fiend’s head, a curious tilt to her own. It’s a couple moments before she pulls out a book, sketching down its face really quick. He watches her, a little zoned out, as she sketches it’s face, with an exaggerated frowny face. Jester looks up, catching his gaze, and he blinks for a second. “Uh.”

“Does it look mean enough?”

“Not as mean as the fucking imps.” He grumbles, but he nods at her. “ _ Ja _ , he looks pretty fucking mean.”

“Good.” She closes the book, and shoots him an apologetic look from under her bangs. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything left to heal you…”

“Oh, I’m fine. This is  _ nothing _ . Relaxing even.” He tells her, accidentally coughing up a little more blood. She looks more worried, and he waves her off, saved from the concern by Toya’s scratchy voice waking up with questions. The rest of the group turns to gently question the girl, and he throws his arm over his face, listening for now.

He’s  _ fairly _ certain she’s in on this, but you can’t just accuse a child of murder. Maybe he’ll teach Beau that lesson, she has good instincts, even if her execution needs  _ a lot _ of work. Bren feels a hand on his shoulder, and Nott’s little voice next to him. “You’re still breathing right?”

“I am.”

“You look  _ very _ dead.”

“We’re close.” He mumbles, lifting his arm so she can see him awake and alive. “But not dead, thanks you to, if I’m not mistaken.”

Nott shrugs, sitting down next to him, as close to the center of the boat that she can. “You’re too good an investment to let die.”

He chokes out a laugh for that, the wounds across his chest pulling as he does. “That’s a cold and calculated outlook.”

“I know, imagine if I was all mean like that, it would be awful.”

“I certainly prefer you like this.” He mumbles, eyelids getting heavier as the boat rocks gently. Bren hasn’t spent much time on the water, but there is something sort of relaxing about the rocking. He’s barely starting to understand Astrid’s obsession with the ocean. Nott’s hand rests on his chest, so she can feel him breathe.

“Don’t you die here.”

“I won’t.”

* * *

_ Astrid is becoming annoyed by his hovering. _

_ It’s been...difficult to leave her on her own. Her wounds heal slowly, her broken finger preventing her from pushing the process along herself. She’s doing better, in the three days since she’s been back. Though there isn’t much that can keep Astrid down long, and spite is her greatest motivator. But...she’s fucking tired, and he can see it in everything she does. _

_ Bren understands that she probably wants some space to deal herself, but he’s also unable to give it to her. He...he wants so  _ badly  _ to talk to her, like he could before. Ever since the Heretic Cleric, he hasn’t...been able to even really meet their eyes, let alone talk to them. So he isn’t talking, but he won’t leave her alone either. It’s not surprising when Astrid finally turns on him, her forehead against his, laying in her bed. “Tell me what’s wrong.” _

_ “I don’t know how.” _

_ “Let me in, then.” She whispers, pushing her head against his. “It’s weird that you haven’t yet.” _

_ “I know.” He mumbles, closing his eyes. “I know.” _

_ “Did something happen that you’re not telling me? Telling us? Did…did Master Ikithon do something to you.” _

_ Bren frowns, resting his thumb over her lips. “Nothing.” _

_ “You’re lying, and that’s why you won’t let me back in.” She whispers, and he can feel her glare through his eyelids. “Which is  _ so frustrating _ , by the way.” _

_ No one knows that more than him. If fact, the lack of Astrid and Wulf in his head has him frustrated as much as they are. Even more, he’d bet. It’s been a couple years since they were all able to modify the telepathic connection spell onto something overarching, something they could use to stay connected on missions, without risking speaking to each other. Something used to keep tabs on whichever one of them had been assigned an old noble to seduce, and sometimes used to keep each other calm during fights, to plan without speaking. _

_ It’s saved their lives several times, that bond, but..it’s a lot of access to his head. Which...didn’t used to be a problem. In fact, Bren loves it, loves knowing that they’re there, even if they aren’t close, or too far. He hates the silence of his own mind. Well, silent as it gets, anyways. Astrid and Wulf constantly remind him how much his mind is, down to the ever present ticking he emits, the constant counting he does. The time he always knows. _

_ There’s...ways to hide things, ways to build up walls that the others won’t poke at, because they respect each other, but Bren’s never been good at controlling his anger, and if he doesn’t let it beat across the entirety of his skull, he’s afraid he won’t be able to contain it. So he keeps them shut out, keeps them as far away from the truth as he possibly can, keeps them safe from Ikithon. For now, for as long as he can. _

_ “I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to meet hers, a rare softness in the vicious green, and he tries to smile. “I’m a little fucked up right now, you two don’t need my shit during all this.” _

_ “The whole point is to carry each other’s shit, if we try and deal with this shit alone, we’re all going to end up  _ insane _ , and I feel like you’re slipping.” _

_ “I’m not insane.” He frowns, not even believing himself as he says it. Astrid shakes her head, rolling so her back faces him. _

_ “You aren’t okay, either.” _

_ It’s true, Astrid is rarely wrong, but he can’t tell her that. Instead he curls around her, hiding his face in her hair. No, he’s not okay, he’s not okay at all, and there’s nothing that any of them can do about that. She sees the pain in him, but she can’t find the source. He feels the pain in him, but he can’t stop the bleeding he’s just… _

_ He’s dying. _

_ He shivers at the thought, and Astrid tries to turn to face him against but he just holds her tighter, in place, so she can’t see his face. Her fingers lace through his, her concern palpable, even without being in her head. “You and I, we have spent a long time together.” _

_ “Ja, we have.” _

_ “It’s been  _ eleven years _ , Bren. We’ve made it eleven years here, with him, after everything. We’ve made it this far.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ “So...don’t break now.” She whispers, barely audible in the silence of her room. “Not after all this...not...after…” _

_ Their fingers tighten around each other, and he sighs, pulling her tighter against him. “We can’t do anything worse than that.” _

_ “We can’t do anything worse than that.” She repeats, her voice strained. “So whatever is…whatever is inside you, don’t let it kill you.” _

_ “I know.” He murmurs, eyes closing against the pain in his chest. He wants to tell her, he wants to tell her so badly, but he can’t. Not when...not when they did what they did. Not when they still can’t even talk about what they did, not really. The slightest change in the narrative made them  _ murderers _ , not soldiers. They’ve banked their whole lives on that moment, that little bit of loyalty that ruined everything. _

_ She can’t know. Wulf can’t know. It will destroy them, just like it’s destroying him. So he’s going to ride this as far as he can. As far as it will take him, and he’s going to fucking try to survive it, the best he can. Astrid leans back against him, her thumb running over his. “He’s planning on sending us out, scouting missions, he wants to give us territories. He wants to separate us, really. And if he’s going to do that...I need to know you’re going to be okay.” _

Trent is planning on separating them _? Fucking hell, Master Ikithon is spooked. He’s knows now, that Bren knows the truth...and he’s going to do what he can to keep Bren from telling them. Not that Bren ever would, he’s smarter than to set the other two off in a panic without a plan. He’s smarter than that, and he’s a little surprised Ikithon doesn’t give him the credit for at least that. _

Well, he doesn’t have to pretend he tolerates you anymore, so that might be nice _. Bren sighs, pulling her so she’s facing him again. Her eyes are hard again, but she’s giving him an incredibly pouty face. He scoffs, pressing his lips against her forehead. _

_ “I’m going to be okay.” _

_ “Don’t you die here.” _

_ “I won’t.” He promises, himself as much as her. “I won’t.” _

* * *

When the boat crashes against the shore, he jerks awake, immediately hissing through the pain.  

Nott puts her hand on his shoulder, apologizing even though it wasn’t her fault at all. He puts his hand on her head, trying to reassure her that he’s fine, but the rest of the group is looking over now. Not that they’re doing much better, Fjord and Molly look nearly equally shitty, and Beau’s knuckles are still bleeding.

Jester sighs, looking at everyone. “We got all sorts of fucked up you guys.”

“Yeah that wasn’t  _ fun, _ that’s for sure.” Fjord groans, getting out of the boat. They maneuver the giant frog head onto the shore, and stare at it for a minute. “Well this ain’t going anywhere.”

“No way,” Jester agrees, brushing some of the mucus from its skin off on her dress. “It’s  _ so heavy. _ And I’m not going to carry it around by myself.”

“No, and we don’t want the entire town to see it either.” Bren sighs, pressing his hand to his ribs. “I can go get the Lawmaster, bring her here, explain what happened, and get you all cleared. You should go sneak back into the Inn.”

“Right,” Nott agrees, looking at him. “And we’ll go to the Lawmaster.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. “You need to go with them.”

“Fuck no-“

“This is what we talked about, it’ll be safer for you if you go back to the Inn.”

“You’re nearly dead, if a strong wind comes through town, you’ll be lights out!”

“I’m a  _ little  _ heartier than that.”

“Not much.” Nott crosses her arms, resolute. Bren smiles at her, something akin to fondness filling his chest. He understand her hesitation, but if she goes with him,  _ she _ would be in danger. And, he can’t use his title if she’s there.

“I promise I will survive, and I will get the Lawmaster to clear everyone’s names and it’ll be fine.” He assures her, a little wobbly on his feet. “And then we are going to rest, and probably drink.”

Nott still looks unsure, but Jester holds out her hand to his little goblin friend, a smile on her face. “Come on, we can walk together.”

There’s a beat before Nott puts her hand in Jester’s, then makes a face. “Oh I wish your hands weren’t covered in frog slime.”

Jester makes a face right back, pulling Nott along with her. “ _ Your _ hands were on the frog too!”

“Not in the  _ holes _ !”

Bren watches them walk back towards the Inn, Beau leading the way. Molly follows them a ways before he and Toya break and head back towards the circus, and it leaves him alone with Fjord. The other man eyes him worriedly, and Bren lifts an eyebrow. “ _ Ja? _ ”

“You almost died just then.”

“I was there.”

“You don’t seem...shook up, by this. Like you’re barely even breaking a sweat over it.”

_ Fuck _ , he forgot to be afraid. Normal people are shook up when they almost die, normal people don’t stand up mostly bloody and start making plans. He almost  _ died _ and he forgot his cover. Bren takes a breath, trying to recall Caleb’s cowardice. “I’m in shock...I think. I don’t know how to tell.”

Fjord lifts an eyebrow, his own hands trembling down by his sides, his breathing still a little labored.  _ Shit _ .

“So you’ll watch the head,  _ ja _ ? While I go and get the Lawmaster?”

“Sounds...like a plan.” Fjord finally agrees, changing his appearance to look like a guard. “Don’t, yanno,  _ die  _ before you get there.”

Bren frowns, heading back toward the center of the town.  He  _ must _ look like shit, judging by the way every keeps assuming he’s just...moments from death.  _ Maybe he is _ , honestly, he feels a little light headed, and he’s not moving  _ incredibly _ quickly, but that might have more to do with the fact that he’s in a position where it’s more beneficial to be himself than his cover.

He rubs a hand across his neck, under his scarf, where Trent marked him. His collar of runes are hidden there, marking him as the Empire’s, marking him as the Hound, marking him as  _ Ikithon’s _ . It was one of the few modifications Ikithon did to him that didn’t leave him writhing in agony, didn’t leave him coughing blood or dragging his body back to his quarters. The runes only appear when they’re summoned, but he keeps his scarf wrapped around him when he’s not in the capital, _ just in case.  _ The Lawmaster won’t know  _ what  _ the runes mean, but they’re enough to prove he’s in the Cerberus Assembly, enough to believe what he says. Ikithon had been entirely too proud of himself for the  _ brand _ for lack of a better term, that too tight smile on his face.

_ Can’t let a hound wander around without his collar _ .

He comes up on the stockade, wondering if there’s a life for him out there when Ikithon’s voice doesn’t live in his head. The two Crownsguard at the door stop him, but he holds his hands up peacefully. “I don’t mean any trouble, I simply wish to speak to Lawmaster Norda.”

“The Lawmaster has gone home for the evening. It’s  _ nearly _ midnight.”

It’s nearly one actually, but Bren gets the impression these men wouldn’t appreciate that. “I have information about the attack that have been happening in town.”

The two Crownsguard look at him, then at each other, clear disbelief on their faces. Bren tries to put an unassuming smile on his face, but he’s getting really fucking sick of having to kowtow to these bastards. “She’ll be back in the morning, you can plead your case then.”

As they speak, the door opens behind him, and Norda’s stout frame walks through the door,  _ clearly  _ exhausted. Bren flashes a smirk at the two guards before he lifts a hand up. “Pardon me, Lawmaster-“

Norda glances at him, and he watches her eyes go from slightly annoyed to  _ horrified  _ and Bren accepts that he does, in fact, look like  _ shit _ . “Fucking  _ hell _ , what happened to you?”

“Well, I found out some very pertinent information for the attacks that have been happening in the town. And the information bit me back.”

Norda lifts an eyebrow at him, not sure what to make of the bleeding human on her doorstep this early in the morning. “What have you got then?”

“I found the creature that’s been making the undead start wandering your town, and it’s been dispatched. I have proof near the docks, if you wouldn’t mind following me.”

“You’d understand if I don’t feel entirely comfortable following you anywhere. Who are you?”

“I’m friends with the people you have under arrest at the Inn, and I happen to know they’re innocent, and I can prove it.”

Norda blinks at him once, then looks behind him, her eyebrows lifting, then she looks to him again. “You sure about that now?”

Bren looks over his shoulder, only to find Beau, Jester and Nott heading his way. In  _ chains _ .

_ Fuck the entire pantheon _ .

Bren doesn’t bother hiding his annoyed look when they come up on them, and Beau and Jester indignantly return it. Nott however, just looks  _ nervous _ , and his face softens despite himself.  _ It’s fine, it’s fine, I can still do this. _

Norda looks his party over, her amused smile doesn’t reach her tired eyes. “And what have we here?”

“They were caught trying to sneak back into the Inn.” The Crownsguard answer her, and Bren exhales, fighting the desire to push the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“We were looking for my shoe!”

“Ring.”

“That too!” Jester argues, and Beau groans. The Lawmaster looks back over at Bren, and does his best to smile back.

“You were saying?”

“They’re still innocent.” He tells her. “It was a fiend that’s done all this, and we can prove it. If you wouldn’t mind, we can show you.”

The rest of his party nods, Jester’s chains rattling as she does. The exasperated look on the guard’s face tells him she’s been doing this the whole time. Norda watches Jester for a moment, her eyes landing on Beau’s defiant face, and resting  _ far _ too long on Nott’s shivering form. “Well,” Norda looks at him. “I cannot  _ wait _ to see what you have for me.” 

* * *

_ Master Ikithon calls for him directly after dinner. _

_ Bren isn’t surprised, he’s been expecting this meeting ever since Ikithon found out what happened. When he arrives at his office, Ikithon is already sitting at his desk, a change from the wait he usually makes them do. Master Ikithon gestures towards the chair across from him silently. Bren would prefer to stand, but he sits, eyes on the old mage in front of him. Ikithon has looked his age for a couple years now, but he wears it like it’s armor, comfortable in his power. There’s a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes, and Bren fights every instinct to scratch at his arms. “Magistar.” _

_ “Bren, my boy, thank you for coming.” _

_ “I wasn’t under the implication I had a choice.” The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them, and Ikithon nearly clenches his fist, but he stops himself, watching his student. _

_ “There’s no need to be  _ rude _ , Bren,” Ikithon tells him, organizing the papers on his desk. “I only wanted to have a chat.” _

_ “You’re separating us.” _

_ “I see Astrid has spoken to you already, how is the little Tempest? She feeling better?” _

_ Bren clenches his jaw, taking a slow breath from his nose. He can’t get angry, not yet. Instead, he swallows his anger, and puts a smile on his face, like Astrid does. “She’s doing great, you wouldn’t even know she’d been beaten so badly.” _

_ “I hope you know I don’t like punishing you three.” _

_ It’s a godsdamned  _ lie _ , but he knows better than to say anything about it. Hells, Bren is fully expecting to have his arms cut open for his little outburst. Master Trent Ikithon is a sadist at heart and a monster everywhere else. But he still manages to spit out a response. “I know, Master Ikithon.” _

_ “In fact, I called you down here because I’m concerned about you. You haven’t seemed yourself lately, and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” _

_ Bren meets his eyes, and there’s a  _ coldness  _ in Ikithon’s he wasn’t expecting.  _ He knows, he knows and he’s going to kill you because you know. He’s expecting you to lose it, he’s expecting you to lose your mind. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

_ “I’m doing just fine, sir, thank you for your concern. It was a difficult mission and a difficult few days back. But I’ve gotten some rest and I’m feeling much better. I appreciate your concern.” Bren keeps smiling, watching Ikithon closely. Master Ikithon chuckles, leaning back in his chair. _

_ “You’re all very good, I’ve trained you all very well. But you, my boy, I am  _ constantly  _ surprised by you.” _

_ “That’s all I could hope for, sir.” _

_ “You adapt well to the unknown, you’re smart enough to formulate a plan in seconds, and it isn’t often you have to learn a lesson twice. It’s one of your better qualities, actually. I imagine you’re smart enough to understand how vital that is. Because my boy, I can’t stress enough how  _ dangerous  _ it would be to not learn these lessons.” _

_ Bren’s eyes narrow, his hand clenching into a fist for only a moment, before he relaxes it. Ikithon watches him carefully, and he nods. “I’m fairly smart, sir.” _

_ “I know you are, my boy, I know you are. And I know you’re smarter than to do anything to endanger the Assembly, the Academy, or even your team. That’s the last thing you want to do, I know. Because should something terrible happen, it absolutely won’t be just  _ you  _ that suffers. And suffer you will, you know, those savages out there aren’t half as forgiving as I am.” _

_ It was expected, but it still punched him in the gut to hear Ikithon so casually threaten Wulf and Astrid like he was. But Ikithon has no use for a Hound that bites at it’s master, so Bren nods curtly, rage igniting under his skin again, pounding against his head. Again and again, the words smother him.  _ Kill him, burn him, it’ll be over, watch him burn, watch that old man scream-

_ No. _

_ He can’t, he can’t kill the old man, there’s so much more at play here than just Ikithon, and he can’t be put to death before he figures it all out. Bren nods, fingers itching at his arms. Ikithon watches him for a moment, and then makes a call towards the door. He jumps when he hears it open, and looks over to his shoulder to find Lady Vess DeRogna coming inside, a stern look on her face. Ikithon smiles at her, another that never reaches his eyes.  “Bren have you met Lady DeRogna?” _

_ “No, sir.” He answers, eyes watching the Archmage of Antiquity carefully. She looks down on him, hesitantly. She’s never seen the Hound before, and he has to imagine she’s disappointed he looks so normal. “It’s nice to meet you.” _

_ “The Lady DeRogna has asked for your help in something up East.” Ikithon tells him, eyes returning to the papers on his desk. “And seeing as I plan on having you oversee the East, it seemed like a good opportunity. You’ll leave in two days, and accompany her up East. You’ll be working as her bodyguard, and you will allow nothing to happen to her.” _

_ Bren nods, looking between the two mages. He happens to know that Ikithon couldn’t care less about DeRogna, and he knows if she were die, it really wouldn’t ruin Ikithon’s day in the slightest. He wonders what DeRogna promised him to get him to trade for the Hound. “Of course, sir.” _

_ “Excellent. There you are, Vess. The Hound, happy to help. We should discuss the next pieces. Bren, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 7 for an adjustment. You’re excused.” _

_ He stands, nodding to the two and heading from the office.  _ Fuck _. _

_ Ikithon knows he knows, and he’s more than willing to kill Astrid or Wulf, or send Astrid and Wulf to kill  _ him _ , if he steps out of line. Which means the fake memory was fake. Bren pops his knuckles as he walks, slowly, so he can think. Sending the three of them off to different territories makes sense, they can collect information as they go, and with single man teams, they’ll practically be invisible. Except for him. Anyone showing their face up East right now is being watched, recorded, noted. With the whispers of war getting louder, it’s hard to go anywhere on the border without being noticed. So, Ikithon can send him away, put him in danger, and keep meticulous tabs on him all at the same time. _

_ It’s...impressive, Bren has to give it to him. It’s a smaller puzzle to focus on in the midst of the unknown he’s drowning in right now, and it’s nice to have the breather. He doesn’t have any idea what he’s going to do with the information he’s learned, but this does give him some time. This gives him some priceless silence so he can work through this, before it gets lost. Before he gets lost to the anger inside him. _

_ Behind him, he hears a door close, and Lady DeRogna walks out of Ikithon’s office, a very bitter look on her face. When she sees him, she schools it back into a much more agreeable smile, and comes to join him. Bren nods, and she sighs, looking over at him. “Is he any less frustrating to you? I would assume not, but you never know.” _

_ “Master Ikithon is…” He considers for a moment, then looks down at the ground. “As he always is.” _

_ “I figured as much. It was Bren, right? No one ever uses your name, if I’m honest. They all call you-” _

_ “Hound. I know.” Bren answers her, uncomfortable speaking about his rank. Lady Vess nods, her own eyes focused on the hall before her. _

_ “I was expecting a monster, honestly, with what I’ve heard. But you? You’re just a kid, aren’t you?” _

_ “I’m just a human.” _

_ “Are you even thirty yet?” _

_ Bren pauses for a moment, but shakes his head.  “No.” _

_ “Amazing.” Lady Vess has a curious look on her face. “And yet, most the Empire thinks you’re a ghost, killing things in the night like some kind of legend.” _

_ “I’m a soldier, not a legend. Sorry to disappoint you, Archmage.” _

_ “No please,” She holds up a hand. “Please call me Vess. Thank you for your assistance, I’ll feel a little more comfortable with someone as well traveled as yourself. Have you been to the border before?” _

_ “Not too close, no.” _

_ “Well who knows? Perhaps you’ll like it. It’s an interesting place, to say the least. The people aren’t much for conversation and the landscape is dull, but there’s something there. It’s like the air sings. But it’s cold. Dress warm.” _

Everywhere is cold _ , but Bren only nods, focused on the doors passing, and how they were still 54 doors away from his, 53, 52. He doesn’t like this, doesn’t trust Ikithon, doesn’t trust Lady DaRogna either. She’s...she’s strange. He’s not spoken to her before this, but he knows a little of her. She’s smart, she’s strange, she’s powerful. Her features are soft, and her smile is warm, but she has the same edges to her that Ikithon does, that Bren is starting to see on his own face. She’s powerful, and she knows it, she wears it like robes. The Cerberus Assembly doesn’t bother with physical aspects of ranking, they exude their rank at all times. While Lady Vess DeRogna is kindly-looking, she’s still makes him shudder. _

_ He doesn’t trust her. _

_ But, Bren doesn’t trust anyone now, and he sighs, relaxing some of the tension in his shoulders. Some time far away from the capital would actually be welcome. If he understands correctly, this will be a small party mission, and that gives him plenty of time to think. Without Wulf or Astrid hovering around him with worried looks, without Ikithon glaring at him, waiting for him to slip up, even once. He needs this mission. Finally, they come up on his door, and he clears his throat. “I’m here, Archmage, but I’ll see you in two days.” _

_ “Like I said, call me Vess.” She waves her hand, watching him with that curious look. “You know, I was in that small town two years ago, the one the Hound razed to the ground. After, of course, I walked around, looking through the objects reclaimed from the bodies. And it was...mostly ash. Just ashes, blood, and echoes. It was as though the very soul had been  _ burnt  _ from that town.” _

_ Bren doesn’t meet her eyes, but even before she starts describing it, he can smell it. The way the wood burns first, smokey and comforting, before flesh follows behind it. He’d been given orders, and he’d followed them. No one in that village survived, like he’d been ordered, and he’d not thought of it since, one of those missions that were too heavy to face. But as the Archmage talks, he smells it again, hears wood pop and people scream. _

_ “It was...impressive, how meticulous you were. I’ll even admit I bought into the story a little. That’s the thing with working with relics, they all have a story,  _ something  _ that made them what they are. And those ashes, with those prints running through it. It truly seemed as though some hellhound ran through that town and purified it.” She glances him over. “It’s, interesting, to see the man behind the mask.” _

_ “Thank you, for your faith.” He tells her, forcing a smile on his face, hoping it didn’t look as feral as he felt. “I won’t let you down.” _

_ “No.” She taps her chin twice, before smiling at him. “I don’t think you will. In fact, I cannot  _ wait  _ to see what you have for me.” _

* * *

Bren leans back in his chair, watching the rest of this group of  _ insane _ mercenaries knock back their drinks.

He isn’t entirely sure  _ how,  _  but they’d somehow been able to prove their innocence. Honestly, Bren figured they’d all be going to jail, and had half their jailbreak planned when Lawmaker Norda had exonerated them. They’d gotten  _ incredibly _ lucky...but Bren thinks that just might be what he and Nott need. Gods know they haven’t had much luck on their own, and what they’ve been able to do has been done in shadows. Frumpkin sits on his shoulders, still a little bird, still a lot angry about it. 

_ Change me back _ .

_ I’ll see what I can do, but I’m a little stuck at the moment. _

_ I hate being a bird. _

_ You’re more agreeable as a cat, it’s true. _

_ Fix this. _

_ I will when I get back, _ Bren tells him, finishing his drink.  _ I swear _ .

Frumpkin gives him a very annoyed groan, but he hops over to Jester, landing on her horn again. Jester beams, trying to hold very still so she doesn’t scare him off. Bren orders another drink, trying to hide the smile on his face. Across the table, Beau keeps her eyes on him, head tilted. “So, what are you two going to do now?”

Nott looks up at him, mask pulled down so she could pull from her new flask. “I guess I dunno. Caleb will probably be off in the next day or so.”

“Off?” Fjord asks, leaning on his elbows. “Off where?”

“He goes off sometimes.” Nott answers. “Then he comes back.”

“Where do you go?” Jester whispers, her eyes still staring up at Frumpkin. “Do you have a secret family?”

Bren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _ Nein _ , I don’t have a secret family. I just have other things to do.”

“That’s so mysterious,  _ Caylebbbbb _ .”

“I live to be mysterious.” He rolls his eyes. “And I’ll be gone about a week or so.”

Jester looks away from Frumpkin, down to Nott, but she keeps trying to be super still. “Well, you’re staying with us though, right Nott? And then Caleb can meet up with us as we go. You know how to get ahold of her right?”

“He leaves me Frumpkin.” Nott says, glaring at the bird, and the bird glaring right back.

“Okay great, so we can keep Nott with us, and Caleb you can show up when you’re done with your secret family.”

“I don’t have-” He stops himself, exhaling again. “Nott? Is that something you want to do?”

Nott lifts an eyebrow, looking at everyone around her, sizing them up. “I think that would be fine, but if they move on me, I’m going to kill them all.”

Bren smiles at that, nodding his head. “Fair enough, I’d say.”

Jester throws her hands up, excited, but then she freezes, forgetting she still had Frumpkin on her horn. “That’s great! Fjord, we are meeting so many cool people, and now it’s not like, the two of us! And Caleb, when you’re ready!! We need to meet your family.”

Bren blinks, thinking about Astrid and Wulf, sitting at this table with them, and his stomach twists into knots. “Then they wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

Jester nods sagely, Fumpkin scrambling to stay on her horns. “Can’t be mysterious without the secrets huh?”

He looks at her, weird smile on his face. “Exactly.”

“Hey, while you’re gone,  _ you should really take a bath or something _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took me so long to get out, but THANK YOU all for reading, and being patient! AS ALWAYS, massive shout out to @aqua_arcs and their patient, patient beta work. I realize it's been a hot minute since I updated but I GOT IT!! and Just in time for CR and my birthday!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Youcanreplytothischapter

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE SHOUT OUT TO THE WIDOJEST SERVER, AND AQUA!! WHO DROPPED THE PROMPT AND LET ME WRITE FOR IT. I don't 100% know how long this will end up being, but i'm super in love with the idea and can't wait to drop more. Enjoy, and get ready for the pain!  
> youcanreplytothisfic


End file.
